The Beast Within
by Oceanfeather
Summary: Dean has been looking for his little brother for 6 months. When he finally finds him, Sam has changed, and Dean has to figure out what has happened to him and how he can save his little brother from the beast within. Note: Features some Sammy torture.
1. Chapter 1

**Supernatural**** - The Beast Within -**

_-(This is still work in progress, all feedback welcome)-_

The old house was run down and smelled of timber rot when Dean entered through the squeaking backdoor.  
It was a quiet weekday and the whole neighbourhood was either at work or just didn't care about the intruder on this bright morning. The house looked seriously abandoned from the outside and the neglect continued inside. The kitchen sink was filled with piles of old dishes and pans and pots. The garbage had not been emptied in weeks and rats had found their way in. Dean stepped on a few cockroaches on his way to the living room and cursed this rundown place. The pale sunlight was filtered through rotten curtains and the inside looked dusty and eerie like a misty day. Dean listened out for the smallest noise, a sign that a person or anything else was in the house but the guy that lived here, that he and Bobby had hunted down, did not mention any partners. To this point Dean wasn't sure the old guy had even given him the right address before he crossed him over to hell, but it was the only hope he had left to find his little brother Sam Winchester. It had been 6 months since Sam disappeared and this was the only real clue he had left. Everything else had proven to be a dead end.The floorboards squeaked under Dean's weight and drew his attention to the basement. Dean looked down and decided he would check the basements first, then the attic.He found the door in the kitchen soon after he had moved the kitchen cupboard, containing only a few old china mugs. This_ must_ be the right house, he thought, why else would someone block this door. Of course it was locked but Dean did not want to kick it in, in case there were stairs behind it. He had done this before without thinking and falling down 12 steps isn't as much fun as in the movies. He pulled a lock pick set from his pocket and picked the padlock on the bar the old guy must had installed over the width of the door. After the second attempt it was open. He moved the bar and opened the door carefully. A horrible stench hit him in the face and he had to concentrate hard not to throw up. The heavy maglite in one hand the gun in the other, Dean carefully took one creaking step at a time, alert not to trip after all. Again, he caught site of the usual vermin in the corner of his eye, but he tried to be prepared for what lay ahead. His heart was beating fast and the smell was vile, but at least it didn't smell like a decaying body, so maybe there was still hope if Sam had been trapped down here all this time. Dean tried not to think about his past 6 months down in this hole, just kept moving forward. He decided that it was time to make himself known.

"Sam? Sammy?" he whispered carefully into the smelly darkness, but there was no response, though he thought he had heard a rattling sound somewhere.

"Sam, are you here?" he whispered again, but slightly louder.

There was this rattling noise again, it reminded him of a heavy chain. Dean turned around a few times, investigating the dark corners over and over again.

"Sam, are you here? Answer me damnit" Again, rattling! Where did it come from?

He had thought it was an old pile of rags before, so Dean had missed the shapeless mess in one corner. Carefully he stepped closer, his gun sharp, just in case it wasn't his brother there, but just another poor, maybe insane soul, or even a demon. As he came closer Dean more and more recognised the legs and arms of a human being who used his hands to cover his head for protection. The body was trembling, probably in fear. Dean wasn't sure it was his little brother curled up there though, or maybe he hoped it wasn't him after all. He could not imagine the state he must be in. Whoever it was he was not wearing any clothes and his pink skin was covered in dirty streaks. His hair was long and frizzy and hadn't been cut in a while.

"Sammy?" He asked again, his voice trembling slightly and cautiously he put one hand on the person's shoulder. The body shrugged away from the touch and tried to curl up in an even smaller bundle.

Dean sighed and ran his hand over his own mouth in a gesture that usually indicated that he was rethinking his strategy. What should he do? How do you reach out to someone that scared? How do you make a person feel safe? He decided that whatever he did he couldn't possibly make it worse, so he stretched his hand out again, this time towards the face to get a better look at the person. Gently he pushed one hand and some hair aside and his heart stopped for a moment as the boy that shyly blinked into the bright light of his torch, was indeed his little brother Sammy Winchester.

"Oh god, Sammy!" He put the torch on the floor, leapt forward and hugged his brother as tight as he could, no matter what; he just had to, even though he smelled like a garbage bag.

He pushed the wild hair aside to see the familiar face in the shady light. Sam looked disorientated and estranged, as if he didn't recognise who Dean was.

"Let's get you out of here, little brother." Dean announced, his arm around Sam, trying to help him up. It was then, that he finally felt the metal collar around Sam's neck.

"Oh tell me this bastard did not chain you up like a freaking dog down here!" Dean grumbled. "What else he do to you?"

Sam didn't look directly at Dean or answer him. Dean felt so angry and if the old man hadn't already been dead for a few days, he would make sure he'd suffer a long and painful death. Of course Dean had no tools on him, and didn't want to leave Sam again, to get a cutter from the trunk of the Impala parked in an empty side street. He couldn't leave Sam, not just now that he had just found him, as he lay frightened and shivering in his arms, in desperate need for his protection.  
He warned Sam before he shot a few times to break the chain, which seemed to surprise and scare Sam a little. As Dean did not bring a blanket he took his own Army Jacket off, worrying about dry-cleaning later, wrapping it around his little brother, barely covering his tall naked body. When they were little, Dean always took care of his younger brother and at times Dean had seen more of his brother than he wished he had. Right now, none of this mattered. He put one arm around Sam's shoulder and helped him out of this hellhole. It took a while to get him upstairs and Dean prayed that the water hadn't been disconnected to the house yet.He had no time to wonder about Sam's state of mind when he sat him down in the grubby old tub. Dean opened the tabs and the pipes started crying and moaning as if they house had a soul that was in pain, like Sam, but who had been strangely quiet the whole time. Sam kept his chin rested on his chest and his arms slung around his legs. He looked so miserable that it broke Dean's heart to see his little brother like this. Dean wanted to tell him that he was so sorry he hadn't found him earlier and that he had left no stone unturned to find him, but he wished it hadn't been that long. He wanted to take the pain from him, but didn't how how, so instead, he tried to keep his usual game face up, he new that Sammy would appreciate that more, than being pitied.

Finally the faucets spat out rusty water and eventually it ran clean, it also warmed up a little, so the boiler must have come back to life as well. Dean rinsed some of the dirt down the plughole, then closed it and let the tub fill up, while he left the bathroom to give Bobby a quick call.  
As he paced up and down the corridor, Dean told Bobby, that he found Sammy and that he was alive, yet not sure how okay he was and that he looked "broken somehow". Bobby told him to be gentle with Sam and to keep a low profile and that they should try and get to his place as soon as possible.

When Dean finally returned, the tub was nearly full. He shot forward to close the tabs before the tub could overflow. Sam seemed to be caught up in his own little world at the moment and who could blame him. Dean folded up the sleeves of his checked shirt and found a sponge that almost smelled clean and would do for now. He also found a bar of soap and gently he started rubbing the dirt out of Dean's face, squeezing clean water out of the sponge, trying to wash Sam's frizzy hair. When they were little he always cut his little brothers hair when they were on the move. Usually he took a plastic bowl or colander, placed it on his head and simply cut around its rim. He wondered if he should go downstairs and look for a clean one but doubted that he would find anything but rusty scissors in the kitchen drawers. He decided it was worth the try.  
"Here Sammy, try and wash the dirt off and I'll also get you your clothes out of the car." he tried to produce a smile that would reassure Sammy that he would take car of him like he used to, that he was safe again, but his brother didn't look at him.

"Don't go anywhere again, okay"

Somehow he doubted that Sam would.

His steps soon disappeared downstairs and were followed by some distant rummaging sounds and passionate cursing from the kitchen. Sam hesitantly looked around the old bathroom with its cracked tiles and slowly reached for the floating sponge by his feet. His knees were scabbed over from sores he had developed over the months in the basement He slowly moved the sponge over one arm and watched the dirt on his skin only slowly disappear. He was so grateful for his brother Dean who had finally found him and rescued him from the basement, but he wasn't sure if that was also the right thing to do. Little, if nothing did Dean know of the past 6 months that had slowly driven him to the brink of insanity. The old man had good reason to lock him away like an animal, maybe even to put the collar on him. Sam reached for the metal ring around his neck. He remembered his screams and protest when the old man came to him one night and put the collar on him, then the chain that would tie him to a 2 feet radius. The old man had treated him like shit all those months, like an animal, until Sam was sure he was one, until he saw what the old man had seen in him all along.

Dean returned and pulled Sam back from his thoughts. Finally Sam looked up wearily and spotted a bowl and some scissors in Deans hands and his rucksack over Dean's shoulder.

"Thank god we carry towels my brother. Everything in this stinking place is dead, even the towels. Here, wear this for a minute" he said and quickly placed the bowl upside down on Sam's head. Sam looked at Dean as if he was the insane one.

"Okay, now hold still" Dean announced and Sam didn't dare to move an inch while Dean worked his way through his thick filthy hair.

"It's no Toni&Guy cut, but it will do" he smiled as he finished the last bit off.

"Thanks" Sam finally managed to say. The words came dry from his throat and it sounded like he really had to think hard to remember how to speak.

"Sure"

"I mean.."

"I know Sammy, I know. Look, I brought you your stuff, there are towels in your backpack, will you be ok on your own for a bit or do I also need to dress you like I used to until you were 12?"

Sam pressed the sponge against his knee and nodded. He didn't get the joke. Dean padded Sam's head and gave him a compassionate look.

"Ok, shout if you need anything, ok?"

"Ok"

_-(TBC)- _


	2. Chapter 2

**The Beast Within **

**- Chapter 2 -**

It was an awkward journey all the way to Bobby's house. Sam kept staring out the window into the upcoming darkness of the night and Dean couldn't tell if he was lost in his own thoughts, or if he thought at all. He looked empty, almost numb and now that Dean had a few hours to reflect on everything, he realised, how worried he really was about his little brother. He was always under the impression that Sam could take good care him himself. He was strong and smart and even though he had their mum's gentle nature, he was a good fighter for the right cause. Now Dean could only wonder what he felt on the inside, after having been in dark isolation for 6 months, kept like an animal.

He tightened his grip around the steering wheel, and clenched his teeth as he announced "I can't wait to get to Bobby's and he can take that damn collar off you. Why in god's name has this maniac done this to you?" Dean quickly glanced at Sam, before pinning his eyes on the road again, trying to focus his anger on the drive. Sam slowly lifted one hand and as if he only now realised what Dean was saying, touching the metal around his neck.

"Why would he do that to you?" Dean shook his head "Son of a bitch" he added grumpily and punched the innocent steering wheel.

Sam kept staring out the window as he said in a low voice "I don't know Dean. I guess he was…"

Dean frowned and looked at Sam.

"He was what, Sammy? _Insane_? He had no right to do that to you Sam! I don't care what you think. Don't you dare to believe that what he did had some sick twisted purpose! You owe that yourself, Sammy."

Sam also frowned now, as he did not know what else he could tell Dean. He couldn't tell him the truth. The truth was just too awful and weird.

"I'm tired" Sam said instead and got comfortable in the Impala's seat, as he used to, when the Winchester brothers were on one of their usual road trips.

When Sam woke up again, the Impala came to a halt next to an old Camaro. He recognised it as Bobby's hunter ride. Ahead, between stacks of old cars and metal scraps, was Bobby's house, decorated with hubcaps and vintage number plates on the outside walls. Sam was nervous now. He just got used to Dean asking him how he was all the time, now Bobby would do the same.

Since their Dad died, Bobby always had been looking out for them like a second father, for which the brothers were really grateful deep down. But at the moment Sam wasn't sure how to behave in company, even though he knew these people. It was weird, it felt strange. He had been alone, by himself for months. Stuck in that dark, smelly place. Now everything felt new again and everything felt more intense. He had to learn to be Sam Winchester again.

"Sam!" Bobby exclaimed as soon as he walked through the door, the old man greeting him with a hearty hug.

"Sam, it's so good to see you again!" The old man smelled of cars and strange hoodoo potions. Sam was so overwhelmed by Bobby's gesture that he failed to react to it appropriately. He just stood there like a tree.

"You look…good" Bobby lied. Sam looked pale, he thought. His eyes, though covered in dark shadows, were red from not being used to light anymore.

"Dean, can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Yup, what's up"

"Is he really okay?" Bobby asked Dean under four eyes when he was sure Sam couldn't hear them.

"Yeeeah" Dean said making a wiping gesture with his hand.

"Dean." Bobby said.

"Okay! No, I think he is not ok, Bobby. I swear there is something strange about Sammy. But I can't put my finger on it." Dean briefly looked past Bobby, keeping an eye on Sam, who still stood where they had left him.

"I don't know what happened to him yet, but I need to find out Bobby. I am just not sure if I can sleep after I found out. Man I feel so bad. And I am so mad!" Dean said angrily.

"I know. But you have to remember that none of this is your fault, okay. Now, let's just focus on something else for a bit, okay? You boys must be starving!"

"We had something on the way, but.." Dean smiled "You know me! I can always eat."

Bobby rolled his eyes and said "I know"

Dean's smiled froze a little. "Yeah, well…uh! Bobby! There is something else I need your help with first!" Dean said pointing Dean towards Sam's collar.

Sam clearly felt uneasy when they both examined him.

"Hm" said Bobby.

"So, what do you think?"

"I cannot see how he had welded it shut around his neck without torching the poor boy. There is not lock, no end or beginning, it's just one seamless single piece."

"Huh" Dean said suprised, disappointed that he hadn't yet noticed this all himself. "Yeah, I know. I thought if someone can do it, it's Bobby" he patted the old man on the shoulder, flashing his winning smile.

"There also seems to be a pattern on here…" Bobby mumbled, squinting and pulling a pair of glasses out of his pocket.

Dean looked surprised, not because he had also missed the pattern, but that Bobby would wear glasses.

"Yeah..pattern.." he said slightly distracted by the metal frame in Bobby's face.

"Any idea what it means?" Dean said.

"Not without getting a closer look. I happen to have a new diamond cutter. It might just do the trick."

"Excellent!" Dean said and patted Sam's back, who wasn't sure if he was okay with this. They both could be a right pair of butchers sometimes.

The operation "collar-removal" included the following: A diamond cutter, which had a small rotating blade and looked like something a dentist might use, a strip of Kevlar fabric squeezed through the collar, to protect Sam's skin from any accidents, lots of cursing (mainly by Bobby who was using the cutter tool and had a though time grinding through the unusually hard metal), 3 tequila shots (2 of which were for Dean) and 4 strong arms pulling the metal ring open, bending it as much as possible, so they could get it off. It was a very long and exhausting operation and Dean was proud that his little brother sat through it all without major complications. Dean probably had no idea, how worried Sam really was.

After the successful operation, the old boy was still energetic enough to cook them all a simple dish Bobby used to cook for himself and his wife when she was still alive. He enjoyed seeing how the orphan boys usually wolfed down his home cooked food as soon as it hit the table, but tonight, only Dean was wolfing, Sam seemed to struggle a bit with the cutlery.

They both noticed, but neither Bobby not Dean wanted to point it out, or bug Sam with any more questions.

After the dinner, Dean helped Bobby dry the dishes and Sam was parked on the sofa in front of the TV broodingly staring at the flickering images. The cold light of the TV engulfed Sam in strange shadows that seemed to dance around him.

Bobby and Dean were talking about him again. They were sure that he couldn't here them, as earlier in the hall, but Sam was able to listen through the noise of the TV and filter between the different sounds.

Dean again stated his concern and compassion for his little brother, which made Sam feel uneasy and somehow guilty that he had become such a burden for Dean and the main focus of his concerns. Dean was very angry inside, about what the old whack-job had done to Sam and he could sense his inner rage beyond the subtle undertone in his voice.

Bobby also was worried, but in a different way. More like a father. Full of sorrow, but less preoccupied with what had happened, but more interested in finding a way to deal with the situation now. Guiding Dean in helping Sam to get better.

Sam didn't pay attention to the TV, but kept thinking about what the old man had said. How he kept calling Sam names, calling him "a beast", a dangerous animal that had to be kept locked away if they wanted to prevent the apocalypse.

Sam played through the images in his head, until Dean suddenly appeared next to him, asking him if he was tired and wanted to go to bed.

Sam nodded and got up. He knew where the guestroom was, that Bobby kept available for the brothers, but he still waited for Dean to lead the way.

Bobby had enough rooms, but only one was dressed as a guestroom. The rest were used as storage for books and lots of supernatural bits and pieces, and of course weapons.

The guestroom contained two old metal framed beds, one put against one wall, the other one next to the window, between them a chest of drawers used as a night stand.

The old bed was squeaking when Sam sat down.

Dean had brought their luggage in and he wished Sammy a good night as he crawled into his bed by the window. He could feel that Sam just sat there for a while, on the edge of the bed, staring into the Antarctic distance, unaware that Sam was despairing over the possibility of an apocalypse dawning on them soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Beast Within**

**-Chapter 3-**

_6 months earlier…_

His name was Benjamin Sinclair. He was born in Clarinda, Iowa, November 2nd 1949 to Marsha and Philip Sinclair. Both had initially come over as prisoners of WWII and with the birth of their first son Benjamin they had decided to emigrate to the US to become hardworking and loyal Americans. They changed their names to more American sounding ones in order to blend in and avoid the fear of discrimination against them. Though they never moved far from Clarinda, the place where they had been kept as prisoners in work camps, they always denied their past in front of their son and vowed to never speak of it again. But Benjamin was a bright child and put the pieces of the puzzle together as an adolescent. He had to understand why his father was the way he was and he came to the conclusion that his father had never quite overcome the doctrines implanted in him by the Third Reich. His father wasn't an unusually cruel man, yet he had a lot of anger and frustration in him, that he ended up directing against his son.

Soon after his parents died in a tragic car accident, the young Benjamin moved to Arkansas in search of a new beginning. He never married or had children and led a relatively uneventful, rather reclusive life. He had never missed a Sunday in church throughout his whole life, until today. Benjamin had been involved in a minor car accident this morning and was currently sitting in the waiting lounge of the local ER waiting for the doctors to release him.

His head was heavily bandaged and while the doctors were still discussing his head x-rays Benjamin spotted a poster on a wall across the hall.  
The poster showed a graphic of a sheep and the quote _"__Watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves - Matthew 7:15__"._ He stared at the poster for a while, wondering why someone would have put it up in a hospital. He also wondered if it could maybe be some sort of sign. His whole life he had been looking for signs to guide him and after the accident this morning, remotely similar to the one his parents died in 30 years ago, he wondered if god had finally spoken to him. As he sat there pondering over the meaning of the quote when the doctor came by to see him. He had a mild concussion he was told, but they had also found a dark area on the brain scan. He said it would take further tests to be sure, but if it was a brain tumour, they would have to act fast and probably operate soon. The doctor did not understand why Benjamin Sinclair smiled and wished him a nice day instead. He would also never return for further tests, as god had other plans for him, so he thought.

* * *

Sam and Dean were heading north on the I55 to St. Louis, MO to investigate the haunting of the Lemp Mansion. 

"It's said to be hunted by four ghosts, all family members of the Lemp family. They used to own a brewery and have origins in Germany. The family members have all committed suicide when the business went into depression. The suicide note of the last one, Charles Lemp in 1949, read "In case I am found dead blame it on no one but me" " Sam quoted from the papers and newspaper clipping he had gathered.

"Hm, I guess that's one way of looking at it. Man! Suicide is so lame" Dean remarked passionately.

"You can only push a man so far, Dean. Some people have a low threshold for stress I guess" Sam said.

"Oookay pansy. No need to get all "avocate for he weak" on me again." Dean said to brighten the mood a little "So these spirits…ha! Spirits! We should call them Liquor this time…" Dean grinned.

"Why?" Sam asked seriously confused. God, his brother was so slow sometimes; Dean thought as he tried to keep his big grin going.

"Well, ghosts are spirits right and beer is a liquor and as they were brewing beer when they…" Sam raised his eyebrows in anticipation "aaaoow forget it Sam, ok! Forget it!"

Sam giggled. He loved it when Dean's jokes went wrong. Dean however thought Sam had no timing for comedy. Considering the Lemp's were brewing beer when they were alive, it was a quite funny analogy, he thought.

"So, these ghosts are beer brewers from Germany?" Dean asked.

"A few generations back. And yes, Germany is renown for its beer."

"That maybe true, but I prefer a cool Beck's" Dean countered.

Sam looked up at Dean with amusement "You know that Beck's is a German beer brand, right?"

Dean looked at Sam, clearly trying to save his faux-pax.

"Yeah I knew that" he said and rolled his eyes as if Sam was crazy.

"Yeah, right" Sam said and laughed.

Dean cleared his throat and asked what else he had on the case.

"The last one in the family was Edwin Lemp. He died in 1970 of old age. Apparently shortly before he died, he ordered his caretaker to destroy most of the family's possessions to – get this- "break the family curse" "

"Guess the old man was on the right track, but maybe he should have salt'n burned their bones instead. Did you find anything on a family curse?"

"Well, there is this Lavender Lady. She was always dressed in that colour"

"You are right, _that_ is a curse"

"She was the first wife and a golddigger, so the old Lemp divorced her, which created a big scandal at the time."

"Could she have laid a curse on the family as some sort of revenge?"

"It's possible, although there are no references anywhere that she was involved with the dark stuff."

"Come on Sammy! It's St. Louis! Hoodoo's practically everywhere."

Sam actually acknowledged this idea and opened his notebook to google this new lead.

"What do you say we stop somewhere for the night Sam? I don't think these beer brewing ghosts are going anywhere without us."

"Okay" Sam replied "But don't pick another Flagstaff Cheapmotel, okay! That was the first and only night I put up with real bedbugs."

"Come on Sammy! It was great fun watching you scream like a girl, hands waving everywhere screaming "get them off, get them off me" "

Sam shifted uneasy in his seat "Yeah can we please never mention that again" he said and frowned, feeling that itchy feeling coming back.

"Hey, you started it. But I promise no cheapo' motels for my little' bro' no more, who is so frightin' of those mighty bedbugs bitin'." Dean chanted and grinned.

"Amen"

* * *

"_Fallen, fallen is Babylon the great!_

_It has become a dwelling place of demons,_

_a haunt of every foul and hateful bird,_

_a haunt of every foul and hateful beast__" __ Rev. 18:2)_

Benjamin Sinclair had taken his old Dodge Van to the road in search of more signs from god. The old car had led him to St. Louis where, on his arrival, the pale blue sky, filled with thick, grey clouds unloaded bucket loads of rain which saturated the porous tarmac immediately.  
As Benjamin watched out for more signs, he spotted the Hopsen Barley Motel. He decided to take a rest and pulled over into the car park. Past the rows of parked cars the van hurled up mucky puddle water, just as Dean was unloading the Impala. The cold water soaked the back of his legs and he quickly dropped the stuff into the trunk to a) look at his ruined jeans and b) to direct a selection of colourful curses towards the green van.

"Son of a bitch" he moaned to himself and tried to shake the clingy feeling of wet denim against his skin off. It only gave him more Goosebumps.

"I am so sorry" he heard an old voice say to him. Dean turned around angrily, preparing a full 3 course menu of defamations, when he discovered, that the van had spat out an fragile old man, maybe 50 or 60, grey hair, full short beard, wearing a 30s style hat. He so didn't look like he belonged to that rusty old van, Dean thought, and he looked indeed really sorry.

"Yeah, no problem" Dean replied, quite lamely he thought, even for him. He suddenly wasn't in the mood to make a big deal of this anymore. He and Sammy had work to do, plan how they would infiltrate the Lemp Mansion to investigate the haunting. He wanted to stay focussed, reserve his anger for some nasty old spirits.

"I am really sorry. I will pay for the cleaning" the old man shouted over to him.

"No really "Dean said with a fake smile "It's okay. Nothing happened"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure"

"Dean, what is…?" Sam started to say as he came out of the hotel reception with the keys, obtained for the fake Mr. Cagney and Mr. Lacey.

He suddenly stopped and looked up, from Dean to the green van to the old man. For a moment he had a strange feeling. Not like the premonitions he used to have, but just a strange feeling, like someone was breathing cold air against his neck.

"Is everything ok?" he asked Dean quickly, watching the old man carefully as he walked over to Dean.

"Yes. Here, take this!" Dean said and pushed the luggage in Sam's arms who wasn't prepared for it and quickly grabbed the goods before they could hit the wet ground.

"I am really sorry" the old man said again, waving at Sam, as Dean snatched they motel keys off his little brother, determined to change into a dry pair of Jeans.

Sam frowned at the old man and smiled politely. Then he used his elbow to close the trunk and followed Dean into their room.

"Man, I hate wet clothes." Dean continued to complain as he peeled the Jeans off. "Pass me my stuff, will you Sammy" he asked and Sam who just had dropped the luggage, fished for Dean's bag and threw it over on his bed.

"So, what's the plan?" Sam asked and dropped himself over on the other bouncy bed, his arms folded under his head. It was nice to be able to stretch out as the Impala was awfully uncomfortable on long journeys and his long legs screamed for space to unfold into.

"The plan is, we grab something to eat, while you look through that magic silver notebook of yours to find us a way into the mansion that doesn't raise suspicion and…are these really beer bottles on the wall paper or am I having visions now?"

Sam tried to look at the wall behind his head, creasing his forehead like and old curtain.

"I think they are" he said in awe.

"Awsome." Dean smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Beast Within**

**-Chapter 4-**

"_Let anyone who has an ear listen:  
If you are to be taken captive,__ into captivity you go"(__ Rev. 13:9-10)_

Neither Sam nor Dean had seen it coming. That same day they were having lunch in a small diner down the road and Dean couldn't help it. All this talk about distilled beverages had instilled in him a craving for a cool beer. Along with his trademark burger with extra onions and fries he ordered a bottle of Budweiser. Sam just gave him the usual look, as Dean, onions and the Impala just didn't go together very well. Not when he was riding shotgun.

"Found anything on the mansion yet?" Dean said when he opened the screw capped bottle. "Was it built on the infamous Indian burial ground maybe?"

"Is anything really ever built on an Indian burial ground?"

"Hey, that haunted shopping mall in Oklahoma is build _around_ one!" pointing at Sam with the bottle in his hand, leaning his back against the vinyl covered bench.

Sam just gave him an indefinable look and turned the open notebook around, so his brother could see the screen.

"Oh you got to be kidding me!"

Sam didn't. He would not joke about this sort of thing.

"Oh, I am so going to love this assignment!" Dean smiled.

"That's what I was afraid of."

When Sam and Dean arrived at the Lemp Mansion this evening, Sam was ready to kill his older brother on the spot.

At the entrance of the big 19th century mansion stood Wonder Woman, asking every visitor for their tickets.

"Oh, we are on the list. It's Batman and Robin, we are from the Oklahoma Mail and here to report on tonight's murder mystery." Dean knew how to charm the ladies and he could never resist a Wonder Woman.

"I am sorry..but you are not on the list" she said politely.

"What? Really, are you sure? Oh man, that happened twice now this week. Someone at the office really is sleeping with their eyes open."

"I am sorry but.."

"May I?" Dean asked and already managed to look at her clipboard over her right shoulder. His eyes were swiftly scanning the entries looking for the word "Press".

"Ha!" He exclaimed. "That's where the dog's buried! Mr. Stetson and Mr…" he had to look twice "Mr..Protznowski!" he tried his best to pronounce that name "There" he said triumphant "That's us. But I prefer to be called _Batman._"

"Welcome. Please take your game cards and enjoy tonights mystery" she said and pointed to a table dressed with a white cloth and ca. 50 envelopes on it. On each was the guest's name nicely written in calligraphy letters. Before Sam could react, Dean snatched the Stetson envelope so that Sam was stuck with an unpronounceable name.

"Just great" Sam grumbled and scratched his itchy spandex Robin outfit and continued to look miserable, while Dean enjoyed the party that looked like a comic book convention.

As they both opened their envelopes to find out, if one of them was the murderer, the game master was announcing tonight's game and explaining the games rules.

"Do not share your secret identity with your friends. Only you should know what your envelope contains." So when Dean tried to take a glimpse at Sam's gamecard his brother quickly held it away from him and gave him a "no-way" look.

The mansion was filled with a bunch of people in various comical outfits, all in great anticipation of tonight's murder mystery. Dean was having a field day, while Sam was looking at the period furniture and paintings, searching for clues. He noticed that lavender was placed throughout the whole house and he had also noticed that lavender was planted outside, all around the house. He knew from his books that lavender had an old tradition in folklore. Amongst its medicinal properties it was also used to ward of evil spirits and to protect a house from bad luck. So whether this was a real haunting or not, someone definitely believed in it though.  
Maybe they were on the wrong track and the lavender lady wasn't the root of the problem. Maybe she had tried to protect herself from something far more powerful all this time. Something far older. Sam felt a cold shiver again. What if those suicides weren't really suicides?  
What if…

"Excuse me" someone said suddenly.

When he turned around all he felt was a hard object having an unexpected rendezvous with his skull, then darkness followed from there on.

When he woke up he found himself surrounded by strange characters. Slowly he recognized Hong Kong Phooey, or a guy pretending to look like him and then Batman, reaching out to help him up.  
"What happened to you, Robin?" Dean asked his brother who was feeling his head for wounds. All he seemed to have was a very sore spot on the back of his head.

"I don't know, Dean. I think I got hit by something." Dean guided Sam to a more quiet corner. He was alert and worried.

"Did you see anyone…or anything?"

"No…" Sam said, looking around.

"Well, while you were out, the "murder victim" appeared in the lounge. Some old lady is tonight's victim. If you ask me they should have picked the guy in that Shrek Outfit. He looks terrible."

"Dean, I think someone is trying to protect this house."

"Really? Who and why?"

"I don't know yet, but it's all that lavender around the house. Someone's definitely trying to ward off evil spirits."

"Huh, I wondered why it smelled of Agatha Christie's ghost in here"

"I think that those suicides might have been also a result of something else, and…"

"Excuse me" someone suddenly said and when Sam and Dean turned around they were startled to see a Zombie. I took them a moment to realize that it was only a costume.

The Zombie grabbled for his game card and read a question on it.

"Did you speak to the victim..before she was murdered?" the guy in the Zombie costumes read. Dean smiled and pulled out his own card. On there it said "If someone asks you a question about the murder, point him towards the kitchen." So Dean said "I heard the Butler had an argument with her. I think he is in the kitchen. I you ask me, it's never the Butler."

"Ah, uhm, thanks man" The Zombie said and staggered off, looking for the kitchen.

"Well, this is perfect. Everyone is hunting around for clues so I think we should do the same Sammy…Sammy?" When Dean turned around, his little brother was gone.

"Sam?"


	5. Chapter 5

**The Beast Within**

**-Chapter 5****-**

_(Still 6 months earlier)_

Dean turned round and round and round, but his little brother was positively not there anymore.  
He wondered if Sammy had gone on an exploration tour of the house himself and checked upstairs. But he couldn't see the guy dressed in the horribly tacky Robin outfit anywhere. He asked the Shrek-guy and he asked the Zombie. He even asked Wonder Woman if she had seen him leave the party, but no one had seen Sammy anywhere.  
Dean's thoughts were all over the place. What the hell was happening, and had it to do with this place and the ghosts in here he wondered, just as someone tapped him on the shoulder. He twitched and whirled around only to stare blankly at Sammy innocent face. Dean's forehead immediately wrinkled with anger and he punched Sammy lightly on the chest.

"Dude! What's that for?" Sammy asked annoyed and confused and Dean's face looked like thunder.

"Don't_ever_ do that again Sammy" he grunted.

"What? Take a leak you mean?" Sam asked innocently.

"No! You know what I mean! Don't vanish like that! You know what happened last time!"

"Oh.Right." Sam said slowly, remembering the last time, when he vanished and got stabbed in the back putting Dean through hell.

"Sorry" He mumbled sincerely but Dean already grabbed his upper arm and pushed him towards the lounge.

"Don't push me" Sam protested but Batman ignored him. After all they had work to do.

"Okay, let's find out if this place is genuinely haunted. Did you bring the EMF?"

Sam looked at Dean as if he had just spoken Chinese, then gestured with his hands and said "Dude, you made me wear this freakin' costume! Where do you think I can put the EMF?"

Dean's lips twitched as he was trying to comment on this when they suddenly heard a scream from somewhere. They looked at each other and having exactly the same thought, started running towards the kitchen.  
It turned out that the Zombie wasn't supposed to be part of the murder mystery game, so his death was definitely criminal, if not supernatural.

The scream had come from Catwoman, who currently was comforted by Robin, while Batman took a closer look at the dead Zombie.  
There was no blood so Dean couldn't tell if he was shot or stabbed. All the other guests stood around them, partially in shock, partially out of curiosity, when Dean looked up seeing Sam talking to Catwoman in his calm reassuring manner. She even smiled a little in between sobbing. Good going, Dean thought proudly. He knew Sammy would get some useful information from her without her even realizing it.

"OK, listen everyone" Dean said firmly as he got up, doing what he did best, taking charge of a situation "I'm gonna call the police now. No one can leave this room or the mansion." He looked at the faces while he said it, trying to see if someone wasn't ok with this.

"Is everyone accounted for?" he asked turning to Wonder Woman for an answer while his phone was dialling 911.

"I..I think so" she said looking at her guest list. He hoped she wouldn't realize that Batman and Robin weren't actually supposed to be part of this party.

"Yes, I want to report a mystery murder…no I am not drunk." He wiped Wonder Woman with a smile. "Well, not yet anyways" he added opportunistically.

As soon as the police showed up and asked everyone their questions, Dean and Sam decided to bail when no one was looking.

The Impala roared through the night and much to Sam's relief, the costumes went into the next random garbage can in a nice looking neighbourhood.

"So do you think someone at the party did it?" Sam asked while he was pulling a jumper over his head, sitting on the passenger seat in the Impala.

"I don't know Sam, could be, or could be just a normal murder. What did Catwoman have to say and more importantly did you get her number?"

Sam's hair was all over the place as he finally managed to pull his head through the right opening in the jumper.

"Huh?"

"Catwoman? You talked to her, at the party? Did she see anything?"

"Oh, yeah, she found the body. It was her boyfriend apparently and before she found him she said she felt a cold tingle on her neck, as if something went passed her"

"Could be a sign of a ghost, or poltergeist maybe?"

"I don't know Dean. I guess we have to get back to the mansion WITH the EMF this time."

"Well, if you had brought it in the first place…"

"Don't you dare start on me Dean!" Sam said raising his voice a little.

"Okay, okay!" Dean shouted back whilst trying to calm himself down.

"We try and get back into the place tomorrow and check it out."

They had stopped by the Taco Bell on their way back to the motel, so it was late when they finally arrived. The place was quiet but the carpark was full with cars. There was no free space for the Impala left. "I don't believe it!" Dean exclaimed. "Not _one_ freakin' space!"

"Try down there" Sam said pointing at a small side alley.

"Man, I really gotta pee." Dean grumbled, his face an amusing vision of pain.

"Do you want me to park the car?" Sam said, expecting Dean to say no.

"Could you? That'd be awesome!" He put the car in neutral and almost jumped out of the Impala before it stopped.

"Ok, no rush then." Sam said smirking while watching his brother run towards their motel room. He moved over into the driver seat and pushed the lever back into drive. The Impala roared as he guided her towards the ally he had spotted. Indeed it looked like there were spaces left. It made sense. People always tried to park as close to the rooms as possible, but since Sam Winchester wasn't just any ordinary guy who had faced far worse creatures than just a small time gangster mugging you in a dark alleyway, so he believed he would cope.

The purring engine died as he turned the key and the Impala went to sleep for the night. Over the past years even Sam had become really attached to the car, though he would never share Dean's passion for it quite in the same way. After all, it was only a car and there was never enough room for his legs. The door squeaked as he got out and he made sure to lock it immediately. He brushed the alley with a quick glance and wandered over to the boot to make sure it was locked too. It was, so he turned around to put the keys in his pocket, but all he could hear next was a light 'cling' of the keys falling to the ground. Then the darkness swallowed him up.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Beast Within**

**-Chapter 6****-**

It smelled foul and dry. Sam had trouble breathing and when he opened his eyes it stayed dark. He wasn't blindfolded so his immediate thought was that he had either gone blind or that it was pitch-black were he was.  
Was there a noise, or was it just the ringing in his ear? He moved his head slightly, turned it only a little just to regret it immediately as a sharp pain seemed to explode in his head. Had he been hit? On the head? It sure felt like it. It also felt like there was something over his head. He could feel a coarse material barely touching his lips.  
Oh great, he concluded. I have been kidnapped again. Dean is going to freak out all over again. He is going to look for me, and he will find the car keys on the ground and he will…what was that? Did he hear some footsteps approaching? He tried to move his hands, but they were tied behind his back and he appeared to be sitting on something like a chair probably.

"Hello?" he croaked with a dry voice and immediately his head was knocked back hard. For a brief moment he thought he could hear the vertebrates click in and out of place.

"Quiet!" a male voice demanded and Sam suddenly wasn't in the mood for small talk anymore. Not until he knew what or who he was dealing with.

The man had a slow walk, his shoe soles seemed to be brushing over the floor but Sam couldn't make out if he was walking away or coming closer, when suddenly the stinking jute bag that was put over his head was yanked off in one sudden movement that startled him.  
It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Eventually he could make out a shady room filled with cabinets. A kitchen in an old farmhouse maybe?  
The silhouette of a person finally caught his attention; he stood near the shaded window, quietly staring back at Sam. For a brief moment Sam was reminded of the Yellow-Eyed demon, but that couldn't be. He couldn't be back, could he? Sam couldn't see the man's face, but the shape on his head was a hat that he seemed to remember form somewhere. Sam was searching through his blurry memory but couldn't arrange his thoughts properly when it finally dawned on him.

"You are the old man from the parking lot!" he said smug. 5 seconds later he wished he hadn't said anything, as his chair got knocked over and he was kicked fiercely.

"Why are you doing this? Are you possessed?" Sam yelled desperately and suddenly the old man stopped hitting him but he continued to tower over him in a way that Sam didn't like.

"If by possessed you mean filled with the word of god, then yes, I am possessed."

"Oh great" Sam muttered and clenched his teeth when his head was pulled back by his hair.

"You on the other hand are nothing more than a foul beast sent to do the devils work. I have seen the signs and I understand"

"Trust me! You don't!" Sam replied callously.

"Silence!" the old man demanded and much to Sam's surprise he put him, including the chair back into an upright position, then without further explanation, he left the kitchen

What the hell was that all about, Sam thought, checking if his jaw still worked. If this man wasn't possessed he sure was crazy. But why did he know him and his confusing connections to the dark side? Sam was a little more concerned by this, than the fact that he just got beaten up. What was the old man going to do to him next?  
He couldn't help but feel a little worried. He looked around for anything that might help him escape but there was absolutely nothing in sight. There was an empty kitchen table to his left, but that was it. Usually Sam had a small spare knife on him, but after tonight's costume odyssey he had nothing but empty pockets.  
Damn you, damn you. He thought, meaning himself and the fact that he wasn't prepared or had seen the attacker coming. Apart from the fact that he had been captured by a feeble old man, he was more concerned about Dean right now. He really didn't want to put Dean through another ordeal again. He felt strangely guilty and with a sigh let his head fall forward, his chin touching his chest. Maybe if he concentrated really hard he could loosen something, or maybe he could even break free. Anything. He took a deep breath and tensed every muscle. He had to suppress a scream when he pushed his arms against the strong shackles behind his back which didn't budge an inch. His arms burned from the strain when he tried again and again until his wrists were sore. It didn't help anything.  
He sighed and let out unholy curses which were usually Dean's domain. Sam suddenly was really angry about the fact that he was trapped. This wasn't fair and it was right. He had done nothing and this old man had no right to treat him like this. Sam took a few deep breaths and tried to channel his anger into something more constructive.  
Again he tried to pull his arms apart but this time he couldn't hold back and his scream was so strong it was almost earth shattering, but it didn't help him.  
His chest was moving fast though he was trying to calm himself down again, as he felt like he had just run a marathon. His shoulders were aching now and his head was pounding with a migraine that made him feel sick. He wanted to cry out of frustration but didn't even have the energy left for it. He let his head fall towards on side and kept staring into the gloomy darkness until his thoughts carried him to a happier place.

He had fallen asleep in an upright position and was suddenly woken up buy a harsh slap in the face.

"Would you stop with the.." he began but was silenced with another sharp "Quiet!"

Sam looked at the man displaying a mixture of anger and confusion. Talk to me old man, he thought. What do you want? Tell what you are going to do with me, so I can plan an escape.

"Do you see this?" the old man yelled and smacked an old book on the kitchen table dispersing dust.

Sam winced and frowned. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to answer that. He new the book well, he read it several times, so instead he nodded carefully.

"I thought you might!" the old man said with a content undertone.

"All these years I was blind to the signs, and then finally, he spoke to me. He gave me a purpose!"

Sam couldn't make heads or tails of any of this. He wanted to ask what he meant but knew that it would cost him another slap on the head.

"What purpose?" Sam asked preparing himself for yet another blow, but after a few seconds he carefully opened one eye as nothing had happened. He looked around but the old man wasn't in sight, then suddenly he was attacked from behind. Something cold touched his neck and he demanded to know what he was doing to him. The cold thing around his neck closed uncomfortably tight all of a sudden and Sam flexed his strong neck muscles a few times in protest.

"From now on you will not speak another foul word." The old man whispered in Sam's ear. Sam couldn't help but feel weirdly violated.

"And if you don't obey…I will cut your tongue out!"

Sam swallowed dry, which wasn't easy as the collar around his throat was uncomfortably tight. Next thing he felt was a sharp prick pierce the skin of his upper arm. Sam knew that he was being drugged; he could only hope that the old guy wouldn't get the dosage wrong and kill him right away when already his eyes felt really heavy. The room started spinning and the shapes began to blur and bleed into one another. He wanted to protest, form words, but his tongue was so heavy. He could only produce some sort of mumbling growls when he felt the shackles around his hands loosen, but somehow Sam didn't think that he was free to go. He was proven right when the old man pulled him up, but as his legs already had gone limp Sam instantly collapsed on the dirty kitchen floor. His head hit the floor tiles hard as he had no control over his body anymore. The old man yanked his head up by the collar and pulled Sam with him. Sam tried to reach the collar and ease the uncomfortable pressure around his throat but the horrible feeling of being choked remained. His head was spinning and the lack of oxygen didn't help him to stay in control. To his surprise the ground under him changed suddenly and the tiles turned into stairs. He desperately tried to grab hold of something to help him defend himself or to stop him being dragged down a dark staircase, but his arms were made of lead and his stiff fingers barley moved at his will. His shoulders hit every new stair hard and the sharp pain shot through his spine while he was still gasping for air. Before he reached the bottom he finally passed out.

It was dark and very quiet when Sam suddenly woke up from a nightmare.  
He looked around for Dean but it was to dark to see. He was still shaking from the dream of being abducted and tortured. He suddenly missed Dean's reassuring voice, the company of his brother that always made him feel safe.  
He coughed and tried to clear his throat when he realised that the tight grip around his neck that had been so intense in his dream, was still present. His fingers trembled when he hesitantly reached for his own throat. It was a dream, it had to be, but when his fingers finally felt the cold metal he almost started crying. It had to be a dream. This couldn't be true, it just couldn't.  
Slowly he pulled himself up, or at least he tried, but his knees were still weak and wouldn't carry him and his back was in agony and covered in tender black and blue bruises.  
He could only crouch and every position seemed to hurt somewhere else so he decided to lay down for a bit and rest his sore body. He stared into the darkness around him and very slowly began to make out vague shapes that only seemed visible when he didn't look directly at them. He wasn't sure how big the room was, but it was definitely a basement and the windows had been sealed shut with something. Only drips of dusty light managed to pass through around the window edges. Sam's breathing was calm now. He thought about the old man, the book he had slammed on the table. It had been an old bible. Sam new most of it by heart and he had a feeling he new what the old man was getting at. He called him a foul beast and a demonic tool. He wondered if he was referring to the Book of Revelation. Sam's expression changed from a stoic blank look to that of a self-doubting man. Assuming the old man was not the average nut-job and he didn't seem to be a hunter either, what if he was right? Sam believed in god after all, so did the old man.  
If he thought he was sent by god to detain the beast of the apocalypse, maybe Sam was the right target, considering his past. Suddenly he very much wished Dean was here to tell him that this was all nonsense and that he shouldn't let anyone mess with his head like that and that the old man was only a crazy old son of a bitch.  
I hope you find me soon Dean, Sam mumbled in his thoughts, I hope you do.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Beast Within**

**- Chapter 7 –**

_(Back at Bobby's 6 months later)_

"Wake up Sammy" Dean said yanking his brother's blanket off him before he left the room still giggling like a 5 year old. Sammy rubbed his eyes and looked around slightly befuddled. This was the first night since he had been kidnapped, that he had slept in a proper bed in the same room as his brother Dean. It was the first time that he felt more like a person than a dog.  
Sam squinted and listened. Down the corridor he could hear Bobby and Dean talk, but he didn't want to pay attention to it. He was rather listening out for the chirping birds in the trees outside. He allowed his head to sink back into the pillow and reached for the blanket to curl up in it again. It was a wonderful feeling.  
He was glad that Dean treated him as always and not like a raw and damaged egg. He had missed his brother so much during his time in the basement, when he needed his reassuring strength to keep him going and not to give in.  
He took a deep breath smelling the clean linen sheets and sighing with content as he turned his head towards the window. A real window that wasn't boarded up, that was framed by curtains and through which he could actually see the world outside if he wanted to. He could get up and walk over there, pull the curtains back, get blinded by the morning light and try and spot the birds in the trees. There were moments during the past months, when he thought he would never be allowed to have these choices again. He wished he could talk to Dean about it all, tell him what had happened and how he felt, but he knew he couldn't. Maybe he was scared Dean wouldn't understand, or that he would judge him for all this and that he should have been stronger. Suddenly he wasn't so content anymore. The memory found its way back into his head, recalling the blackness and loneliness that had surrounded him down in the dark hole. He never wanted to be alone like this again, yet he wasn't sure if he could cope with the company of strangers right now. Dean and Bobby he could handle to be around, but what if Dean wanted to continue hunting? How useful would he be right now? He wasn't even sure if his head was still working properly sometimes. It was filled with all these thoughts and strange…instincts, which down in the hole had no other outlet. Being isolated like that can mess with your mind, he told himself over and over again, but that didn't help the fact that he was _there_. He had experienced it first hand, had seen what he was capable off.

"Are you going to stay in bed all day?" Dean asked suddenly pulling Sam from his distant thoughts. When their eyes met, Sam thought that Dean looked concerned.

"You okay?" Dean immediately asked.

Sam nodded slowly.

"Hey, uhm, Bobby is making breakfast so if you can drag yourself out of bed come join us, 'k?

Sam forced himself to smile a little.

"That's mah boy" Dean grinned.

Still trying to wipe the sleep from his sore eyes, which only slowly adjusted to bright light again, Sam traipsed bare feet into the kitchen. He didn't feel quite that much at ease with kitchens yet and both Bobby and Dean noticed the uncomfortable, flustered expression on Sam's face, but they only exchanged a quick glance before Bobby said "So, did you sleep okay or did Dean's snoring keep you up all night?"

"Hey! I don't snore!" Dean intervened immediately now looking more like a 5 year old that had been accused of stealing the last cookie.

Sam knew that he would have to start talking again, but somehow it felt odd to hear his own voice say the words out loud. They had no idea what inner battle he fought with himself.

"I…am fine, thanks" he forced himself say and immediately felt exhausted. Slightly drooping he watched Bobby fill his mug with coffee while he continued talking.

"So, have you boys decided if you want to stay for a bit or have you made other plans?"

Dean looked over to Sam who seemed to struggle with something.

"Erm, no not really. We haven't talked about it yet, so I guess if you don't mind, we could stay for a bit…if that's okay with you? Sam? Sammy?"  
Not responding to Dean's attempts, Sam kept staring at his plate, his hands folded under the table so they couldn't see that they were cramping up. Dean exchanged another concerned look with Bobby, then asked Sam again if he was okay.  
Sam just didn't look up which worried Dean more and more. He didn't know what to do. He felt so much pity and compassion for his little brother that his chest felt like it could implode. What was he supposed to do? Could anyone please tell him what to do?  
Suddenly Sam looked up and his greenish eyes were filled with sorrow and shame.  
He clearly wanted to say something, but couldn't find the right words, which in turn made Dean feel all miserable.

"What is it Sammy? Talk to me! You are worrying me now! Are you feelin sick or somethin'..?"

"I…I…" Sam began "I…can't.."

"What can't you Sammy?"

"I can't eat…"

"What? Why?" Dean asked confused.

"…no..he said..he.."

"Who? That lunatic? What did he say Sammy? What can't you?"

Sam touched the sore skin around his neck where the collar had been. He tried to shake the memory off but he couldn't. His chair tumbled over unexpectedly as he rose up too forcefully and ran to the front door and outside.

"He did not just run away from a perfectly good home cooked breakfast!" Bobby muttered watching Dean doing the same following Sam outside.

Outside, Sam was shading his eyes from the bright light that burned itself into his cornea.

"Sam..?" Dean asked carefully watching his little brother shuffle around in aimless circles. Sam desperately wanted to go somewhere, but he couldn't see anything clearly. The shapes were blurred and the unforgiving brightness gave him a migraine. He had tears in his eyes but Dean couldn't say for sure whether they were caused by his sensitivity to light or by whatever was torturing Sam.

"Sam, when are you going to talk about what happened? I am your brother, you can tell me these things and I want to help you as much as I can. But you need to help me understand you right now, because you are scaring me Sam. I have been looking for you for 6 months and I was worried sick about you and the fact that I couldn't help you drove me insane. And now, that I finally have my little brother back…I must admit I am scared Sammy. I really am. As much as I want to know what happened to you in those 6 months…I am also scared Sammy, that it might break my heart when I finally find out"

"Dean…" Sammy started in his usual reassuring way to explain that he was okay, when he clearly wasn't.

"I know, you will talk to me when you are ready…"

"I am sorry" Sam whinged.

"Don't be Sam. Just tell me what's going on with you right now"

Sam rubbed his stinging eyes again, which were so sore and red.

"This man..he…he said that…" Sam felt really stupid hearing himself say those words. He knew how badly the old man had treated him, but part of him also didn't.

"He said that I wasn't allowed to eat at a table ever again, that it was too good for me…that I belonged in that dirty dark hole and…

"Oh Sammy!" Dean yelled passionately. This was exactly the kind of stuff he was worried about, the stuff that he hoped he wouldn't have to hear about.

Without further ado he reached for his little brother and gave him a strong hug.

"You know that this old bastard was only playing with your mind, right?"

"I know.." Sam whinged into the fabric of Dean's shirt "But he.."

"No BUT! I want to hear no BUT from you for a whole week, okay?"

Sam couldn't help but smile a little now.

"Okay.."

"Good!" Dean said and squeezed him tightly before releasing his grip.

"So, are you hungry enough now to sit down at a proper table and eat? You can use your fingers if that helps any" Dean teased.

"Very funny" Sam muttered still drooping.

"Of course! I am funny, you aren't! See, the Winchester Brothers are back in business." padding Sammy on the shoulder.

"You _always_ eat with you fingers." Sam mumbled churlishly.

Dean squinted and in return scanned Sam with a disapproving look. That comment was so uncalled for, but then he could no longer hold back that big cheesy smile.

"Bitch" he said cheerfully.

"Jerk" Sam replied.


	8. Chapter 8

**The Beast Within**

**- Chapter 8 –**

After he had locked Sam in the basement, Benjamin Sinclair went back to the motel to check out of his own room and to see if Dean was still around.

Only one day had passed since Sam was kidnapped and the Impala was now parked closer to the rooms, indicating that its owner was still around. Benjamin pulled the old Dodge van into an empty space and put his hat on his head before he slowly walked over to the reception.

As he reached for the door, it suddenly was pushed open from the other side. The person who kept his eyes fixed to the floor as if it had all the answers for him down by his feet, suddenly looked up. It wasn't a happy look at all. In fact his eyes were red and he looked like he hadn't slept at all.

Benjamin tipped the rim of his hat smiling at Dean who in turn nodded reluctantly. He had no idea who Benjamin was or that he had only seen him a few days ago. Benjamin could tell that Dean was very much preoccupied with Sam's disappearance right now as he walked like a man on a mission. He curiously watched Dean stomp away towards the Impala and then returned the room keys back to receptionist.

* * *

Benjamin got back to the old house with a brown bag filled with groceries. They were for Sam. As long as he was locked up in the basement downstairs, Benjamin was going to feed him. It wasn't in god's interest to kill Sam Winchester until it was absolutely necessary, that much Benjamin knew. Other than that he hadn't planned a lot yet. In fact he had only then decided to let Sam starve for the first 3 days, so he put the shopping away and sat down at the kitchen table. The noise must have alerted Sam as he suddenly started shouting for help. He had a strong voice and Benjamin was concerned that a neighbour or passer by might actually hear him. He tapped his fingers on the scratched kitchen table for a while. The Lord was testing him. He gave him this big responsibility, maybe the greatest of them all. He chose Benjamin because he had a strong will and therefore he should not be disappointed in him.

He heaved an old man's sigh and grabbed the shotgun that was parked next to the basement door, before he went in.

"If you don't shut your trap I am going to shoot you right now!" He said from the top of the stairs. Somewhere down in the darkness of the rank basement he saw a grey shadow standing there, looking back at him with wild eyes.

"Let me go now!" Sam demanded in an angry desperate voice.

"You know that I cannot do that. It's not what he would want me to do."

Sam pressed his lips together flaring his nostrils.

"You are making a big mistake. When my brother finds me he…" he began threatening the old man but Benjamin suddenly started laughing and Sam stopped mid sentence. He didn't get to Dean as well, did he?

"I saw you brother today. He is leaving town you know. I think he already has come to terms with it."

Sam clenched his fists and pulled angry faces mainly to stop himself from crying. He wouldn't let the old man take the last bit of hope away from him!

"You are lying! He would never do that! My brother is going to find me!" He wanted to attack the old man so badly and punch his face until he'd shut up, but he had the gun and he knew he would use it.

"Believe what you want, or try and make yourself at home now. In case you haven't looked around yet, there is a little bathroom off the right side. There is a small sink, it's were you will get your drinking water from now on.

"Yes." Sam grumbled "I saw that. The water comes out brown and yellow"

"Very well" Benjamin said and turned around to leave.

"Wait!" Sam said desperately to buy more time and Benjamin stopped half turn then he turned around and aimed the gun at Sam, the finger already on the trigger.

"Woah!" Sam exclaimed moving two steps back displaying his empty hands as a gesture of surrender. "Okay, okay. I won't say another word." He lied to avoid being shot.

"I know" Benjamin said and closed the door.

As the darkness fell over Sam's face again so did the despair. He started feeling hungry a little as he hadn't eaten since before his abduction and he was bored out of his mind and the shear frustration of his helplessness made him so angry inside. He didn't knew what to do with his rage so he smacked his fist into the next wall. His knuckles cracked and the pain was excruciating but at least he felt alive and was in control over it.

Growling with pain holding his hurt hand he sat down on the floor again. He had found some old smelly blankets that he had arranged to a half decent comfortable place to sit and sleep for as long as he had to be here until Dean would find him.

Sam leant his head back resting it against the cold wall thinking about what the old man had said to him. That he had seen Dean today. So he went back to the motel, why? It did not make sense. Why would he think that Dean had abandoned him already? Dean would not leave a stone unturned until he'd found him, Sammy was sure of this. He knew he would do the same for Dean. What kind of a sick bastard was this old man? Did he really enjoy this all? And all this talk about doing god's work. Man this time he really had hit the jackpot! Sam's tummy rumbled again. Not only was he starving, he had tried a few sips of the yellow water from the tap before and it looked like it didn't agree with him at all.

* * *

As it was dark all the time, day and night began to blend into one for Sam.

If it wasn't for the steady ticking of Sam's wristwatch, he wouldn't be able to tell what time it was anymore. His listened to the hypnotic ticking that came from his wrist as he lay on his side, the head resting on an outstretched arm. The ticking was the only sound he could hear down here, apart from the occasional slurry noises coming from the kitchen above. He felt nauseous and weak and it felt like his stomach was eating itself. The constant moaning had finally stopped, but the emptiness of his tummy seemed to spread though his body like a disease. He stared into the desolate darkness. It was filled with rank dust and an occasional rat passing through. He wished he was a rat, small enough to fit through any hole. He could say goodbye to this place. But instead Sam just stared into the darkness for hours. The longer he did, it seemed like there were things hiding in the darker shadows within the darkness, moving around. Maybe he thought, the longer you stare into the darkness, the darkness will eventually stare back at you. He swallowed dry.

"You are not real…" he whispered towards the empty darkness, his voice fainting. He wondered if this is what it felt like to go insane. He had tried to drink more water, to keep his fluids up and his brain liquid, but the stomach cramps brought on by the hunger and whatever was in that water, was worse than any desire to satisfy his thirst. His lips had started to crack and show tiny splits and his eyes stung, his head hurt continuously now and he didn't even feel like he wanted to get up from the floor anymore.

He almost wished the old man had shot him a few days ago. Why not get it all over with now, why drag it out. Maybe he was right after all and Dean wasn't looking for him. Maybe he was even happy to be relieved of the burden that his little brother was for him. No one should have to carry a load like this. Dean was much better off without him. He had caused everyone he knew nothing but trouble and grief. His mum died because of him, so did Jessica, and a few other people along the way. Everything was connected to him somehow. Maybe he was evil after all…

Suddenly he heard a noise that he hadn't heard in a few days and as he looked towards the stairs a faint source of light had found its way into the basement.  
He hoped it was Dean but his head was playing with him, hallucinating. Maybe the door wasn't even open.

The figure at the top of the stairs watched him for a few moments then turned around to get something and immediately returned. This would have been a good moment to try and escape Sam thought, but he didn't have the energy to even lift his head, let alone tackle the old man.

He watched the old man come down the stairs and in an desperate attempt to protect himself Sam rose up and moved backwards on his backside, just in case the old man would hit him again. He was surprised to see that the old man had brought a tray with food and a sack containing something heavy. The food smelled overwhelmingly good. So good it made Sam feel even sicker. He wanted to eat so badly but he was scared the man would break his fingers if he tried to reach for it so he just watched him carefully.

"I brought you some food and I will bring you some more food every day IF you behave."

Sam looked up, his forehead in wrinkles. Behave? How? And why would he even say that, as if he really had a choice! What was the old man saying again? Could he have the food now or not? What did he just say? He couldn't remember, he felt so drowsy and tired.

"I think you have learnt your first lesson. I can see you really cannot take your eyes of the tray. You must be really hungry."

Sam had trouble focusing and slowly looked over to the man, as if he was half asleep.

"But before I will let you eat, we have to establish a new rule."

Rule? What? What rule? What did he mean? What had he done now? He hadn't been talking, not loudly anyways. What did he mean?  
He warily watched the old man open the sack, rolling back the opening like a sock. Inside was a pile of dark things, cold and heavy. Sam smelled the rusty iron and it made his stomach turn.

"I let you eat as soon as I put these on. You are not going to make me any trouble, are you?"

Sam tried to shy away shaking his head at the same time. No it was not okay with him! Leave me alone, he thought! Why won't you leave me alone?

The old man had produced a long iron chain from the sack and had started padlocking its one end to the supporting pillar in the middle of the basement.

"No!" Sam exclaimed as his brain began to put one and one together. There was an obvious panic in his voice.

"No chain!" Sam yelled, shaking his head in protest. He thought that it was his chance now or never. With the last little bit of strength he could summon he pulled himself up and made a run for the door. Both on his hands and feet he half climbed, half crawled up the stairs, his eyes pinned on the open door above him. You can make it Sam. You can…

"Aaaahhhh!" he yelled.

Something had caught his foot and his chin had an unexpected rendezvous with one of the steps. His jaw was slammed shut and he bit his tongue a little. He could taste the ferrous blood. He looked down his legs where the old man had grabbed one of his legs to hold him back.

"Let go!" he demanded and started kicking with the free foot while trying to pulling himself up the rest of the stairs, but the old man's grip was like jaws.

Two steps to freedom before Sam screamed in pain. It was a burning sensation that went up through his legs and choked him where the collar was.  
Stungun or Tazer, Sam thought. Damn it! Damn it to hell, I can make it! He tried to fight through the pain and the uncontrollable twitches, keeping his mind focussed on the escape, but the old man kept shocking him over and over again until Sam lost all control. His head sank down on the top step; his fingers could almost reach the door….

Like he was miles away he felt that he was dragged down the stairs again, his chin grazed by every step, one buy one collecting the odd splinter. He mumbled something but he couldn't fight back anymore.

"You want to eat don't you?" Benjamin asked angrily.

The old man looked at Sam for a moment who was trying to come back from his shock induced daze.

"Well, okay. Then I'm going to have to take this with me" he said as if he was talking to a misbehaving child, conspicuously reaching for the tray while Sam was fighting with himself. His lips were twitching as if he was in pain but he didn't say anything.

"Let me know when you change your mind!" the old man huffed and turned to go.

"Wait!...wait…" Sam suddenly exploded and hated himself for his weakness. This was clearly a game of dominance and submission but he was so desperate and felt as if he had no choice then to play along.

"So you will be good?"

Sam forced himself to nod but every fibre of his aching body screamed not to give in and give this man all this power over him.

"Very well" the old man said pleased about this decision and took the other end of the chain and padlocked it to the ring that was attached to Sam's collar.

It was done. He was chained up.

"Are you happy now?" Sam muttered broken not caring anymore that he wasn't allowed to speak.

"There is a yet another new rule. Every time I hear another word out of your filthy mouth you will hand over a piece of clothing. Start with your jacket!"

Sam looked up in disbelief.

"What?" he couldn't help but say.

"And the shoes!"

Sam rolled his eyes and bit his tongue. Was there no end to the humiliation at all? He tried not to look at the old man as he took his beige jacket off and handed the Puma trainers over in exchange for some plain cooked chicken and slices of bread. He gulped the glass of orange juice almost down in one go. Food had never tasted that good to him before and he had to force himself to eat it slowly in order to not overwork his stomach. He noticed that one of his socks had a hole where the big toe was.  
He hoped that he would manage to keep his mouth shut and enough of his clothes on him until Dean would finally find him.

* * *

_Note: _If there is anything you would like to see happening to Sam,  
or have ideas of some more torture methods for Benjamin, give your evil side a voice and send me a message - O.F.


	9. Chapter 9

**The Beast Within**

**- Chapter 9-**

Dean was sitting on the steps of the front porch of Bobby's house, a cold Coors next to him on the second step, the Winchester Laptop balanced dangerously on his knees. He still couldn't get over the fact that Bobby finally had a wireless internet connection of all things.

He took a sip from the cold beer and read the website that had finally loaded. For the past few days Dean was reading everything about torture and post traumatic stress disorder that he could find and at this point his eyes were swimming.

He sighed and massaged his eyes, then slammed shut the cover of the notebook and took another sip. He couldn't read another word of it. He had enough and he wasn't sure how this would help him help his little brother anyway. Maybe they had to consider a shrink or something. He wasn't trained in dealing with this; certainly his Dad had never prepared him for this kind of event. Give him a Wendigo or a Vampire and he'll send them right to hell, but make him an expert on torture induced post traumatic stress and he was about as useful as a compass to a blind man.

Dean felt frustrated and somehow shut out from Sammy's world. This whole ordeal had made his little brother very quiet, even more quiet than usual and there was a strange …he couldn't find a word for it…like a presence within Sam, something that hadn't been there before and although he would never admit to it, scared him a little.  
It was like Sammy had gone through hell and something else had come back with him. Then again, who was to say it wasn't always there, now somehow brought forward.

He wished he could talk to someone, or that someone would tell him what to do. Usually Sammy was the one that came up with the clever solutions, buried himself in books and searching the web. Dean was best when he could put his own life on the line or when he had to improvise. The slow process of Freud and Jung just wasn't his thing unless they happened to be the last names of two fine chicks called Heidi and Emma or something…he shook his head as he was drifting off again on an unrelated subject.

"Focus man!" he ordered himself and opened the notebook up once again. It took a second for the screen to come on.

"What are you doing?"

Dean looked over the screen and recognised Sam's dark silhouette against the light sky. He hadn't heard him coming at all which startled Dean a little. He looked up at Sammy who stood there as he remembered him, hands in the pockets of his jacket while displaying a grumpy fart face.

"Busty asian porn..you know, the usual!" Dean lied smiling and slammed the notebook shut once more.

Sam smirked and looked around as if he wasn't sure what to do with himself.

"Is there something on your mind, Sammy?" Dean asked gently.

"I guess.." Sam said as if he had trouble convincing even himself. Then he finally gave himself a push and added "You know..I have been thinking…"

"Ah, that's dangerous you know."

Sam decided to ignore this comment for a change as he knew Dean couldn't help himself.

"I have been thinking that maybe we should…you know…continue with what we do."

In response Dean pulled a face that was a bastard crossbreed between puzzlement and confusion. Dean wasn't sure if he had heard correctly.

"I am puzzlefused. You..you mean going hunting again?"

Sam furrowed his brow in return.

"Puzzle-_what_?" he had never heard such a word before, but then again his memory seemed to let him down a lot recently.

"_Puzzlefused_! It's like fugly. You know, two words combined. I just thought of it! " Dean said with a proud smile.

Sam wasn't sure what to say to that and simply pulled a face before he asked Dean again, what he thought of the idea of going on the road again soon.

"Well, don't you think that's a little too early, with all the ..stuff you have been through?" Dean asked carefully biting his own lip, as he didn't want to sound insensitive about this.

"That's exactly it Dean! How exactly am I supposed to deal with this? I don't know what to do with myself half the time and the other half I am bored out of my head Dean" he explained passionately but there was also a wild glare in his eyes.

"I don't know Sammy. Maybe it's not such a good idea." Although he wanted so desperately be behind the wheel again, hunting down some of those evil son's of bitches. Everything was better than this helplessness.

"For example, what ever became of the mansion..the ghosts..lavender.." Sam tried to remember its name but couldn't.

"Lemp! Lemp mansion" Dean helped out.

"Yes. Did you go back there after I was.."

"No! Of course not! I spent every goddamn second trying to find you Sam and there is not a day that goes by that I wish it hadn't been sooner. Man I wished I could have spared you all this crap! You shouldn't have to deal with this."

Sam tried to keep a brave face but what his brother said touched him a little. All this time he wanted to believe that Dean hadn't given up on him. He was glad the old man had been lying to him.

"Maybe that's what we have to do Dean. Go hunting and just get on with things. Maybe that's the way forward."

"You know what, I wouldn't like nothing more right now, but I don't want you to feel like you have to."

"Okay" Sam nodded. He was glad that Dean had no idea how he really felt. That he in fact had an urge to go hunting again. Within all the hurt and the pain was also this other feeling that he had been battling with, but since he was out it got stronger with every day that passed. It was like a hunger…

"..drowning rabbit!" Dean proclaimed.

Sam realised that he had drifted off in his own thoughts and that Dean had said something about rabbits. He smiled uncomfortably.

"What?" he asked, just in case it was important.

"I said, this idea better not be about as useless as a jam sandwich to a drowning rabbit."

"Uh, okay, which one am I?" Sam sneered.

Dean screwed up his eyes puzzlefused.

"I hope neither!"


	10. Chapter 10

**The Beast Within**

**- Chapter 10 -**

Benjamin kept feeding and starving Sam for a few alternating days. Right now he was starving him again, but the water down in the basement had made Sam so sick that he couldn't keep food down anyways. The sheer thought of a cheeseburger or something like that made his stomach turn anticlockwise.

Sam lay on the floor his eyes pinned on a rat that was scouring through the desolate basement. Out of sheer boredom he thought of ways to capture it and wondered if he could be quick enough to catch it with his bare hands. He stretched his naked arm towards the rat that paid no attention to him as he moved he dirty fingers slowly to get her attention. He could smell her, and that she had been outside and in the sewer.

The scratching of the rats tiny claws was a welcome distraction from the constant dripping of the water tab. He had tried to fix it, tighten it, break it, but nothing worked. It dripped day and night, every 5-8 seconds according to his watch, drilling itself into his brain like an evil worm eating away at his sanity.

He took his arm back and wrapped it round his waist. He felt cold. The old man had taken his socks and his shirt the other day. When he saw Sam's tattoo on his chest he gave him a whole speech about the mark of the devil and to a certain degree Sam even concurred with the fact that he and his brother were certainly marked in some strange way.

Sam hated the fact that he was chained to the wall, he hated the collar, he hated the old man, he hated his helpless situation and he hated even Dean for not rescuing him by now.

He felt let down, discarded and worthless. In his imagination Sam created his own reality in which Dean had abandoned him and sometimes Sam discovered that he was mumblings words into the darkness.

The noise coming from the basement door being unlocked told Sam that it was either feeding time or torturing time again when the old man appeared at the top of the stairs. Sam had thought about this the past few days and he was watching the old man very carefully, assessing the right moment before he would attack him. His body was trembling as he tried to suppress a suspicious wheezing. His chest was filled with enough anger to help him follow through with his plan.

The old man put the tray down next to him only briefly looking at Sam. He had decided that Sam wasn't worth being considered a person any longer, which on top of all the other humiliation so far, drove Sam wild. He launched himself towards the old man knocking him off his feet. The chain rattled angrily as Sam wrestled with his tormentor. Sam's strong hands closed tight around the feeble old man's throat, and it was a pleasing moment for Sam to see his torturer suffer for a change.

"Go ahead…kill me…you'll never be free" the old man gasped with a lot of effort. Sam didn't care. He only wanted to kill him right now, nothing else mattered.

"You'll never get the chain off…you'll die down here"

It took a moment for these words to reach Sam's secluded mind.

"So what?" he snarled back "At least I can take you down with me!" he sneered, displaying beastly teeth and his dark demon eyes filled with hatred…

"Huuuh!" Sam was gasping for air like a drowning man as he shot up from this dream. Disoriented and trying to rest his hands on the floor which he suddenly couldn't find, he fell back on his left shoulder forcing a surprised "ouch" out of him. His heart still pounding, the blood gushing past his eardrums, he looked around in the dark and it took him a moment to channel his thoughts. What just happened? His pulse was competing with his heavy boisterous breathing for the 1st place as he tried to calm the rage that felt like a concrete slab compressing his chest. This is what it must feel like to be buried in a collapsed mineshaft he thought. He needed air. Fresh air and lots of it!

The intensity of the dream was disturbing and Sam didn't know what to do with it. Overwhelmed by the fact that his own life began to mean so little, that he was willing to sacrifice it, so his wrath could destroy him, he managed himself into an upright position. He rested his head against the cold wall, taking in more deep breaths, rolling his head from one side to another to sooth the unwanted feelings that battled within him. He tried to focus. He wanted to kill the old man so badly and he had never felt this much hate and spite for another human being before. Sure, he had been angry at his Dad in the past and than of course that vampire son of a bitch Gordon! Back than Sam had experienced an unknown rage that let him do things he never thought possible, but never did he care so little about the life of another being than now.

Sam was ashamed that he was capable of these feelings. He was losing his mind, that's what was happening he thought. He swallowed dry and exhaled in intervals not sure if he should either stuff down these feelings or force them out like a possession.

In order to take his mind off the subject, Sam felt up the bruises on his forearm where the old man hat hit him with a stick the other day. It only hurt when he pressed really hard. It also felt as though he had a cracked rip or something too, as a sharp pain occasionally shot through his hip and into his chest and thigh when he moved a certain way. The pain suddenly was more bearable than the revulsion he felt.

It wasn't the same sickness brought on by the unhealthy tab water, as recently it had started to agree with him more. Whatever had infected his body and his mind, appeared to have little to do with his digestive tract.

Sam balanced his arms on his knees crossing his wrists. At least he still had his beloved wristwatch, a gift from Jessica for his birthday. She had it inscribed for him on the back and it was the best gift he'd ever gotten. God, he missed her so much. He was so sorry that he had let her down, that he couldn't save her even though back then he had visions of her cruel death. Could it have been his latent dark side that had kept him from acting, he wondered. Oh Jess, I am so sorry. He ran his hands through his sticky greasy hair and started crying until he came down with a headache.

Next time he saw the old man, Sam was cautious not to get in his way. The memory of the intense dream was still vividly alive within him, but no matter how strong the desire to kill him was, Sam had decided that he didn't want to die just now, and if he killed the man he had become so dependent on by now, he would.

This time the old man, who Sam had secretly named Professor Coldheart because he needed to give the unknown evil a name, hadn't brought a tray with food, but a metal bowl filled with something. Sam wrinkled his nose as he identified the smell. Like a mix between cowshit and cheeseburgers. He shied away from the bowl the Professor dropped at his feet, in protest. He wasn't going to eat stinking dog food, no way Jose!

"You despise your food?"

"No, I despise _you_" Sam growled back and stared at the old man, his eyes filled with hatred.

"You are going to eat or you die. Do you want to die?"

"I thought I wasn't supposed to talk" Sam scoffed, quickly moving back when the old man approached him. The Professor looked like he was judging Sam for something he didn't do, then slowly he bent to pick up the rusty chain. Sam watched every movement carefully; his eyes were perfectly adjusted to the darkness by now. The old man yanked the chain tight causing Sam to choke on the collar. Sam tried to resist his tormentor but he just kept pulling the chain towards him. Much to Sam's discomfort Professor Coldheart had produced the Tazer from his pockets. Sam panicked as he didn't want to let those vile shocks take control of his already aching body again. He screamed with agony and anger but wasn't able to defend himself. The next thing Sam watched was the old man padlocking bits of his chain together but he couldn't understand why.

"Eat!" he bellowed sharply.

"No!" Sam protested which earned him more burning shocks.

"You ungrateful creature!"

"Why you are doing all this…?" Sam tried to sneak the question in that haunted him so much, whilst avoiding eye contact at all cost.

"You will find out soon. Now be a good boy and eat!"

"I am not a dog" Sam protested flaring his nostrils.

"No? Hm, let's see. You crawl around on all fours, you wear a collar like any good dog…and there is your bowl." He kicked it with his polished shoe towards Sam "Now eat!"

"I know what you are trying to do, but it won't work!" Sam grimaced forcing his anger out his nostrils.

"Really you think you know? Since when can a filthy dog think like a human bring?"

Slowly Sam stood up, the room was spinning his knees shaking. He could barely stand upright as the chain was so short now.

"For the last time! I am _not_ a dog!"


	11. Chapter 11

**The Beast Within**

**- Chapter 11 -**

"I don't know if I am okay with this Sammy"

Dean felt prickly and he tightened his grip around the Impala's steering wheel until his knuckles turned white while the engine was softly purring away in neutral.

"Why Dean?" Sammy asked curiously observing Dean who continued to stare out the windscreen across the parking lot.

"Because…!" He exploded but then his throat felt awfully tight and he had to fight the feeling of losing it. Game face Dean! Keep you game face on dude! He closed his eyes for a brief moment and took a deep breath.

"Because this is where I lost you before Sammy! I don't like this place!"

"It's just a motel Dean"

"Are you kidding me?! How it this place not bothering you?" Dean said.

"Because…just because…" Sammy mumbled.

"Because of what happened to you afterwards, isn't it?" Dean really didn't want to go into further details about this right now, as he suddenly felt truly emotional being confronted with these damn feelings again.

"You know, back then I thought I had lost you forever Sammy. There was nothing I could do to stop it from happening and I didn't know where to start looking…"

"You never told me what eventually happened to the old man." Sam suddenly said turning towards Dean with a hopeful expression on his face.

"Did you kill him?"

Dean pondered a moment over this question.

"Trust me I wanted to Sam. I wanted to…" Dean looked sad "…I really _wanted_ to hurt him bad Sammy, make him pay for what he did to you…" he added gritting his teeth.

"But he had this freakin' tumour and it got to him before I did! I got the address from him and where to find you and to be honest that was all that mattered to me then Sammy."

Sam waited a second, giving Dean time to calm down before he asked his next question.

"What was his name?"

Dean turned towards his little brother, once more puzzlefused.

"Come again?"

"I always wondered…who he was and why he did what he did. You know. I had a lot of time to think."

Dean felt the anger again grabbing hold of his chest and squeezing his heart, but tried to ban the images of his little brother chained up in a dark basement, from his head.

"His name was Sinclair…Bobby had found the lead. Some crazy old guy was in a car accident some months back, suddenly he was a messenger from god, turned out he had a violent Dad and a brain tumour."

"That certainly would explain a lot" Sam said mumbling into his chest, immersed in his own thoughts again.

"What? No!" Dean protested looking at Sam as if he was a complete stranger to him.

"No it doesn't Sam! He had no right to do what he did, tumour or not!"

"We didn't exactly have a fairy tale childhood and our Dad was never there for us. Did we turn out okay?"

"What? Of course we did! We are the good guys!" Again he looked at Sam with a strange look, almost in disgust "How can you even question that?!"

Sam lowered his head and looked at his knees that were always in constant contact with the dashboard.

"You don't really think that what he was doing to you was somehow…_justified _?"

"I don't know…" Sam said with a very faint voice, sounding rough and broken, nervously playing with his fingertips.

Ok, this wasn't what Dean had expected. Was this some kind of "bonding with your kidnapper" scenario he had read about somewhere?

"Sammy, look at me! Why would you seriously think that?"

Sam didn't look at Dean. His head was full with thoughts and things he wanted to say but couldn't and Dean trying to force him like that didn't help.

"When I was down there…after he had put the chain on the collar…" Sam began and Dean felt the same sick feeling again when he first entered the basement. He covered his mouth and noise as if he could still remember that horrible smell.

"..after a while..I ..I saw things…"

"Like what?"

"At first I thought it was only my imagination but…I also heard things…voices…and I.." Sam felt very uncomfortable to continue as he was scared what Dean would think about him.

"What Sammy? Talk to me"

"I also felt things Dean." He looked at Dean like a haunted man "_Awful_ things…"

"Awful how? Like sickness, or hunger, or what? Did he hurt you?"

Finally Sam looked up with a sick smirk lurking round his lips.

"Yeah Dean! He hurt me! He hurt me almost every day! With a..a…Tazer…a bat…he constantly kicked me..he.."

"Okay that's enough! I cannot hear anymore of this!" Dean said trying to wipe the horrible images away like dishes from a table.

"Everyday he thought of new ways to torture me Dean! He took my watch, so I didn't know if it was day or night, he took my clothes" demonstratively tugging at his own jacket while his chest was heaving angrily. He couldn't stop himself. His anger was taking over now and he really didn't want to spare Dean right now.

"He starved me for several days at a time! He played godawful music for days, the same stuff over and over and over again!"

Sam was still breathing with rage and exhaustion as the images and emotions flooded back but his voice reflected only the pain. Dean didn't know how to deal with all this information at once, he needed time to think and Sammy needed to calm down again, so he went in for a kamikaze mission.

"Ok, now how is _that_ torture?"

Sam still angry, suddenly had a new problem to deal with here, and it was called _Dean's Ignorance._

"Are you really that stupid sometimes Dean?" he yelled in utter disbelief his voice stumbling.

Dean was glad his plan to get Sammy off the subject was working.

"Excuse me for asking a simple question! Come on Sammy, work with me here! What song he play? Huh? Was is Macarena…or..or that Titanic song? Man that would tip _me_ over!" he said with a sheepish smile trying to lighten the mood a little.

Sam pressed his lips together grinding his jaw.

"No." He said remorseful. "It was _Ramalama Ding Dong_" he added with an ashamed and bitter undertone while he was trying not to meet Dean's eyes.

Dean looked surprised and then tried to play the sound in his head, his lips moving as he silently went though the lyrics in his head_Rama Lama, Rama Lama Ding Dong  
I'll never set her free, for she's mine, all mine.._JesusHolyChristOnABicycle!" He exploded suddenly. Now _he_ couldn't get the ringing of this very annoying tune out of his own head. He had a faint notion how it must have been, constantly hearing it over and over again.

"I gotta ask Sam, you know I do!"

"What now?" Sam sighed listless.

"He..he didn't think of you as a ..girl did he?"

Now Sam looked puzzlefused for a change.

"A fugly girl that is…but because in the song its about a girl ..did he ever..?"

When Sam finally understood what Dean was getting at he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"NO! Never! I think I would have killed myself right there with my bare hands."

"Well thank god you didn't Sammy" Dean was relieved a little as this question had haunted him for months.

"I don't think god has anything to do with this" Sammy replied bitter, looking once more across the car park of the Hopsen Barley Motel.


	12. Chapter 12

**The Beast Within**

**- Chapter 12 -**

"_For God has put it into their hearts to accomplish his purpose by agreeing to give the beast their power to rule, until God's words are fulfilled_"

"You are insane!" Sam grimaced.

"Now hand it over!"

Sam looked confused. What did he mean now?

"Give me your watch! You won't obey and eat, so hand it over!"

"What? No way! NO!" Sam yelled protecting his wrist hiding it from sight. He would have to fight him for it or beat him senseless, which the old man attempted next. From somewhere he had produced a police style baton and kept hitting Sam over and over again. The blows went everywhere, to his head, his shoulders. The pain was awful.

"Leave me alone!" Sam managed to say when he tasted his own blood on his lips. His head was in agony and his nose was burning, but he had no time to focus on the damage as much as trying to protect what little was left of him.

His vision blurred and his coordination slowed down.

"No..NO.." he grunted when the old man twisted his arm in order to get to his wrist. In a desperate attempt Sam flexed every muscle and tried to take his arm back but out came the Tazer again.

"Aaaahhhhh..!" Sam roared in agony rearing up like a stubborn mustang but then it clicked as the wristwatch came undone and the old man could strip it off.

"Give that back you son of a bitch" Sam warned, spitting out blood that ran down from his broken nose into his mouth as he talked.

"Give it back!" he roared again, even louder it seemed. For a second it looked as if he managed to startle the old man as he wondered where Sam took all this energy from. He backed away a few feet before Sam could get back at him. Now that the chain was much shorter, Sam could only do one step forward or back and he could not reach the old man anymore. He tried but the collar was crushing his throat.

"_To Sam, the love of my life – Forever, Jessica_" the old man read as he was inspecting the silver watch.

"What has it gotten Jessica, Sam? Where is she now?"

"Leave her out of this!" He cried and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, smearing the blood around his face.

"She must have loved you a lot giving you such a nice watch." He added callously.

"She did.." Sam whimpered in desperate protest now "She _did_…leave her out of this…!"

"Too bad she didn't see who you really are! A foul beast, a mindless tool of destruction. How could she ever love you, _Sam?_" It stung to hear his name spoken in vain like that. It felt like an insult.

"Stop..!" he barked spitting more blood, the rest now dripping down his bare chest heaving with resentment.

"Had she known who you _really_ are, you think she would have given you _this_?" he held the watch in front of him like an unreachable token of hope, shaking it like a piece of evidence in a trial.

"I said _STOP_!" Sam roared unable to take more abuse. He wanted to drop down on his knees and just cry. Moan his misery and his fate that had treated him like shit, but instead he lifted his head and looked at the old man with the most spiteful look he could produce. Sam wouldn't be surprised if his eyes had turned pitch black as well but there was no indication on the man's face that he had "turned". Very suddenly Sam threw himself forward, the chain and the new padlock on it aching. His breathing turned into deep grunts as his neck muscles tried to resist the crushing grip of the collar. Sam roared at the old man he hated so much, trying to grab him, stretching his fingers too the very limit but being still an arm length away.

His determination and fury concerned the old man so that he made a cautious step backwards because for a moment it looked as if the new padlock might not resist the power that was trying to tear it open.

"_YOU_ are the false prophet!" Sam yelled. "_But the beast__ was captured, and with him the false prophet! The two of them were thrown alive into the fiery lake of burning sulfur!"_ Sam quoted with a before unfelt joy and wickedness. He spit the words at the old man who seemed surprised at the strength that had possessed Sam.

"You will die!" Sam continued. Not "I am going to kill you" as usual, no, this was his very own prophecy.

"When will you accept what you _really_ are?" the old man said with an arrogant undertone.

"Aaaarrrrrrr..!" Sam roared again fighting the restrains with every angry fiber of his body. The rage was exhilarating like a fresh summer rain shower, only much hotter. It felt like lava running through his veins instead of blood. Occasionally, white flashes of bright light flashed before his eyes scalding his very soul.

The chains moaned and the padlock cracked. The strong metal was resisting but Sam felt that it was giving way. Beyond all the noise in his head he heard the change in the padlocks very structure. He put all his might into it and pulled and pulled, all his muscles tensed that they felt almost numb, neglecting the fact that the collar was strangling him still. Finally it gave way and the padlock burst open, releasing the chain, making it longer again.

In a sudden surge he shot forward and the old man stumbled backwards, tripping over the bottom stairs landing on his ass. Sam got hold of his leg but the old man moved backwards quickly and up the stairs until he was out of reach.

Sam had become the raging beast that the old man had accused him off all this time and he was satisfied to see that he hadn't been wrong with his belief. God had not tricked him or even abandoned him. Seeing Sam like this, wild and feral, confirmed that his mission was just.

_Blessed is the one who reads the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear it and take to heart what is written in it, because the time is near._

He left the beast behind him and hastily left the basement, locking the door, and for extra measure pushing the standalone kitchen cupboard in front of the door.

It would be another few days until he would return to Sam with more food and armed with a shotgun.

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_**Note: **Please don't be shy and let me know what you think so far. I love to read your reviews - I can take the Good, the Bad and the Ugly._

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	13. Chapter 13

**Note: **This chapter was somehow the motivation for this story and is based on a dream I had after watching too many SN episode in a row one night. - Please read and review as there is still more to come and I need to know if I am going into the right direction with this or not :)

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**The ****Beast Within**

**-Chapter ****13-**

_It's often safer to be in chains than to be free – F. Kafka_

It was still dark when Sam suddenly rose from his sleep. He immediately looked over to the other motel bed where his brother Dean was sleeping. Sam noticed that Dean's breathing was so subtle that it almost wasn't there and his heartbeat was reduced to only a few faint thumps a minute, so he couldn't have heard anything. Sam kept staring into the darkness trying to synchronise his own heartbeat and breathing, while his ears were searching for the noise that had alerted him.

Maybe it had been just another vivid dream haunting him in his sleep? He turned his head towards the alarm clock. The red digits burned an imprint of the time 2:57 into his sensitive eyes. He was trembling both with excitement and fear. Excitement about the fact that he was now able to see things in the night and hear noises from far away but also fear, because he still didn't want Dean to discover his ugly secret. If Dean knew what had become of him, he most likely would kill him for what he now was.

Sam quietly slipped out of bed and put on his jeans and a t-shirt. He didn't need to visually check on Dean again, as his breathing told him he was still fast asleep.He left the room quietly like a ghost and paused on the motel porch for a few seconds, breathing in the cold, fresh night air.

Not a lot was going on at 3 in the morning. 2 Cats were fighting near some garbage cans down in the parking lot and Sam could sense their primal rage. He also heard a neighbour's dog barking in response to the racket. 4 rooms down on the left a couple were obviously having fun and Sam heard what she whispered in her lover's ear. The hairs in his neck stood up as Sam looked around but none of this was the reason that had woken him up.

He turned his head a little to the right to tune into another sound. Somewhere down the corridor, a few doors down, something strange was going on. Sam frowned and set his bare feet in motion, his eyes pinned on the location where that noise seemed to come from.

Sam stopped in front of room 101. He didn't need to put his ear close to the door, he could hear it all clearly now. Sam grimaced in disgust and fury, his breathing becoming faster as his rage began to take over. His muscles were trembling, his fist clenching. The rage was so powerful, as it took full control of him, that he burst through the door without hesitation. The splinters flew in all directions with the main part of the door landing on the motel bed in the middle of the room.

Once inside Sam scanned the shady room with his now black eyes for the person he was after. He found the middle-aged man standing left of the bed and he was giving off a distinguishable, foul scent, smelling of decay, which only Sam's sensitive nose could pick up.

To the naked eye the man looked like a normal human being in a suit, but Sam was sure he did not confuse the two. This wasn't an ordinary man.

The Beast that had taken over Sam, that he had become, let out a deep growl and leapt forward towards the demon. He was startled and clearly surprised when Sam knocked him to the ground.

"It's _you_!" he shrieked in panic, pinned firmly under the Beast.

Sam let out yet another deep grunt as he displayed bear-like teeth which the Beast had given him, and not waiting for the demon to say anything else, he went directly for his throat.

The demon only produced gurgling sounds, his eyes open wide. His body was twitching as it tried to retain the demon inside, but the container was damaged and dying and so was the demon within.

The blood of the human container was flooding the carpet as it was done. The cruel act left the Beast wheezing, his mighty chest heaving. Sam within the Beast suddenly heard that same whimpering sound as before and which had woken him up from his sleep. Heavily breathing and demon blood dripping from his face and teeth, he slowly looked around to find the source. He could hear the tiny sobbing but not see the person it came from.

Sam rose up, and it seemed he had become taller than usual, his head nearly touching the ceiling now, his broader shoulders casting an enormous shadow as he carefully approached the bed. He could sense something warm and sweet over there, but also pain and fear.

On the floor, her back firmly pressed into the room's corner, he found a little girl, clenching a little teddy bear in her small hands, her face buried in the soft plush toy. Sam still battling with the anger inside tried to focus on the girl, telling the beast that he was, that she was not a potential target. Instead he wanted to tell her that she was rescued now, that she would be ok, and that he was sorry about what she had to witness, but Sam was aware that he was not his usual self anymore.

He had become the Beast and it was finally free. No basement keeping it confined, no collar holding it back. As much as it scared Sam, he couldn't help but enjoy his new freedom. He felt mighty and powerful; it felt like his chest could burst from it, an unknown strength flooding through his body like liquid steel. So much rage he wanted to let out, but not now he heard himself say to the Beast that he also was. Not now. Can you not hear the sirens in the far distance?

Somebody had responded to the noise coming from room 101, so Sam could not stay and be found. They would lock him away again and he could not bare the thought.

Sam looked down at the girl with heartfelt compassion, but she was terrified to death of his appearance and ferocity, there was nothing he could do in his current state to help her, though he wished he could give her a hug but Sam and the Beast had to go.


	14. Chapter 14

**The Beast Within**

**-Chapter 14-**

Dean woke up from a dream of flashing police sirens, just as someone started knocking fiercely on his motel room door. He immediately thought they had come for him. His head was pounding, so was his heart. He looked over to Sam who seemed to have his back to him and looking fast asleep.

"Sam" he whispered "Sam! Are you awake?" but Sam did not react to his questions.

"How can you not hear that?" Dean kept whispering, but more to himself now.

"Sir? Open the door please!" a dull male voice demanded from the outside and kept banging on the door. Confused Dean swung his legs out of bed and only in boxers and a t-shirt he went over to the window, pulling the curtain aside a little. 2 Squad cars had claimed the whole parking lot and their flashing red and blue lights were bouncing of the buildings and reflecting off Dean's face.

"Crap" Dean muttered and braced himself to play along. Yawning and brushing through his hair he opened the door a little, noticing that the chain was not in its rightful place any longer. He was sure he had put it one before they went bed.

"Yes…?" Dean asked, jadedly peeking around as a bright torchlight brushed his stubbly face. He was preparing his usual rant to fend those police prowlers off, when he realised that there was a lot of commotion going on outside. Through the gap of the door Dean saw a little girl wrapped in a thick woollen blanket squeezing tight a plush teddy bear, being escorted back to the squad cars by a quite attractive female officer.

"Sorry to disturb you Sir…" the officer said calmly "But we received a disturbance call and wanted to know if you have heard anything?"

"You mean those sirens there, and all that kafuffle?"

"Erm, no prior to that Sir.."

"Oh" Dean said looking honestly surprised "No, then the answer is no. Why, what happened?"

"I can't tell you Sir" he said and looked at a clipboard. The same moment the coroners where carrying a black body bag behind him down the corridor.

"Did someone die?" Dean said in an Average-Joe-is-very-concerned voice.

The officer decided to ignore this question and asked if there was someone else in the room.

"Yes, my little brother "he replied truthfully, lowering his voice a little "But he is sleeping, please don't wake him too, or he'll be jumping on his bed all night" Dean flashed his big grin and was relieved that the officer eventually decided that Dean didn't have any answers for him.

"Thank you Sir!"

"No problem officer"

Dean squinted and speculated what had happened there as he closed the door again traipsing back to his bed.

How could Sammy sleep through all this?

"Sammy! Wake up!" he said but his brother didn't react.

"Sammy?" Suddenly an uneasy feeling was befalling Dean. He remembered that the chain wasn't on the door and there obviously was a murder of some sort down the corridor…he suddenly panicked and ripped Sam's blanket clean off him. He was shocked to see that his bed was empty; the bed sheets creased like after a restless night.

"Oh no" he exhaled, his knees suddenly feeling really weak and unable to carry his weight.

"I have lost you again" he thought immediately. "No, no, no!" He didn't think that he could take it another time. Suddenly there was a noise, it sounded like water running. He hadn't noticed it before but now that the noise outside had died down a little, it definitely sounded like running water.

New hope lit up his gloomy face. "Sammy?" he asked walking towards the closed bathroom door.

"Sammy? You in there? You okay?" he knocked hopeful then put his ear on the door to hear if anything was going on in there, only then did he reach for the doorknob and much to his relief it wasn't looked.

The bathroom was dark; whoever was in there didn't need lights.

"Sammy?" Dean asked again, carefully opening the squeaking door preparing himself for the worst.

The tinny running water sound came from the bathtub slowly filling with water. In there Dean could make out a vague shape.

"Sammy, you okay?" he repeated softly, not daring to come closer, but watching the shape shivering and making reversed hissing sounds.

"I am going to turn on the lights, okay?" as there was no response he took that as a yes.

Much to his relief it was his little brother Sammy in the bathtub, his arms warped around him like the time Dean had found him in the old house. Sam's clothes were scattered all over the white tiled floor.

Dean couldn't help but suspect a connection with the murder down the hall and his little brother being in this state, but praying there was a normal explanation for it. Maybe Sam just had a really intense dream, one much more disturbing than clowns & midgets.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked gently but wasn't sure if he should come closer yet.

Sam didn't look up, rocking his shivering body back and forth, his head buried between his elbows.

"Go away Dean…" Sam mumbled and Dean had to admit he did not expect to hear that.

"What? No! Not until you tell me what going on with you. Why are you shivering? You cold?"

"I can't…can't get warm..." Sam finally muttered so Dean thought it was a good idea to grab a towel and drape it around Sam's shoulders, not that it would do an awful lot probably.

As Dean kicked some of Sam's clothes aside he suddenly spotted the blood on them.

Okay, this definitely _was_ alarming and he wanted to know what the hell was going on. Now!

He sat down on the bathtub's edge looking down at Sam naked back. He couldn't get over the fact that it was still showing all these streaks and yellow bruises. It hurt him indirectly as well when his brother was hurt.

"Listen to me Sammy. I need to know if you have anything to do with this dead guy down the hall and if so, why."

"I can't! " Sam said still shivering and refusing to look up.

"You can tell me _anything_ Sammy, you know that." Dean said slightly insulted by Sam's answer. What did he keep from him? What was going on...? Dean stood up building himself up in front of Sam now, trying to enforce a little authority here.

"Sam, what is so awful that you can't tell me?"  
With a deep, angry growl he finally lifted his head that felt like lead, looking straight at his worried brother yelling "_ME_!"

If something could shock Dean these days, it certainly was the tortured look on Sam's faces right now…and of course all the blood.

"Dude, your face! Are you hurt?" he exclaimed and his first instinct was to dive forward and check on Sam, but this time he wasn't so sure that he should. Something was not right, Dean thought, and not knowing where it came from, suddenly had an ungodly feeling. Somehow he didn't think that blood was Sam's.

"You stay here and try and get warm, I'll be right back"

He turned on his heal going back to the room, swiping his jacket in one smooth movement off the chair to get to the cell phone in it. While it was already dialling Bobby's number he pulled his jeans up.

"Hey it's me." He said as lightly as he possibly could into the phone wedged beween his jaw and shoulder, zipping up his jeans while leaving the room.

"What have you found out about the collar so far?" Dean listened to Bobby telling him to be patient that he needed more time, as no one seemed to know much about the symbols on it.

"Ok, keep looking. Bobby, I need to ask you something about Sam. Is it possible that he could be possessed again? What? No! I know we have those tattoos but I am asking _what if _Bobby?"

"What's going on Dean? Has something happened over there?"

"I don't know Bobby, I am trying to find out but Sam is like a closed book to me. He won't tell me what's happening to him and I am scared that…"

"You think that it's not your brother?"

"I don't know Bobby." Dean couldn't hide the panic in his voice from Bobby any longer. "He is freaking me out a little..what if…" He suddenly caught sight of the taped door down the corridor. Although it was still dark, the sky began to lighten up already.

"I'm gonna call you back Bobby. I gotta check something out first."


	15. Chapter 15

**The Beast Within**

**- Chapter 15 **

Unsure Dean stood in front of room 101.

He noticed that the original door had been ripped out of its frame and yellow "Do Not Cross – Crime Scene" tape was now wrapped around the frame and a make shift door that had been put in its place to seal the room off form people like him.

Dean had no problem ignoring the "do not enter" police warning pinned on the door and instead sneaked into the place through the bathroom window in the back. No one said anything about not entering through the window.

With his little pocket torch he discreetly lit up the place and what he saw almost grossed him out. The white outline on the floor indicated where the body was found…and another outline were the head was found. Dean took a deep breath and let his torch follow the blood splatter around the room. They were everywhere, even on the ceiling; Dean had to be careful not to leave a new shoeprints in that sticky mess on the blood-soggy carpet.

He stared perplexed at the remains of the original door now on the bed in the middle of the room. He wondered who or what had the beastly strength to pop it out of the frame like that and catapult it across the room that far.

Much to his concern he didn't find any indication of anything usual going on though, no sulphur around the windows for example and the EMF he'd snatched from the Impala sensed zilch.

Slightly disappointed and greatly disgusted Dean left through the back window again. Once outside he wasn't sure what to do next. His head was buzzing with thoughts and questions how Sammy fitted into all this. A million possibilities ran though his head like a noisy Amtrak train towing lots of wagons, but none of them had the writing "Sam is an innocent bystander" on them.

Could it be that Sam had gone insane…? Dean's eyes widened then squinted again and he immersed himself in deep thought, covering his mouth with his left hand. Was it possible that the old man had broken him…? Dean suddenly felt very weak around the knees again and sick to his stomach, but he fought against the feeling of throwing up as best he could. There would be a logical explanation, there always was. Leaning forward against the outside wall of the motel with outstretched arms, he tried to calm his breathing. No need to panic, Dean. You can do this! He is still your brother and you _will _make sure to look out for him, no matter what's wrong with him!

He managed to compose his postured and decided not to alert Bobby until he found out for sure what the hell was going on here. I have to face this straight on, he thought, nodding to himself swallowing down his fear, there is no other way,

When Dean returned to their room Sam must have just gotten out of the bathroom as he had a towel wrapped a round his hips, his face was clean now, his hair still wet.

"I see you have come to you senses again" Dean started off a little frosty "How are you feeling now?"

Sam felt terrible. It felt as if he had dreamed it all, but the stale and rusty taste in his mouth was an awful reminder. At least the cold shivers had stopped.

"Sam, tell me is this why this old son of a bitch had tied you up in the basement in the first place?" he asked callously.

Sam just stood there clenching the towel, still staring on the floor, unable to answer. He suddenly felt trapped and embarrassed by Dean's harsh questions.

"You know, I just went to the room. I had to see it for myself! I know what happened!" Dean was trying very hard not to vent his anger but it was so damn hard right now. Sam suddenly looked up; he looked worried, almost in tears.

"You do?"

"There is just one thing that I can't get my.." Dean sneered sarcastically "..get _my_ head around Sam! Why was _his_ head ripped off like cotton candy and who or what would do such a nasty thing!?"

It startled Sam that Dean would suddenly raise his voice with him. He seemed truly upset.

"Was…was there a girl?" Sam asked carefully.

"Yes, there was. The police took her away last night..this morning..whenever! So you admit you have been there?"

"I.." Sam made 2 steps towards his brother, but halted as Dean immediately backed away from him to keep a healthy distance between them, just until he found out what he was dealing with here.

Sam understood and remained still. He bowed his head again in shame.

"I know you are scared…" Sam said sadly.

"Scared? Of my own brother? Well, should I, Sam? Should I be scared? I don't know! What else are you not telling me?" He was angry and at a loss here throwing his hands in the air with frustration and doing a half turn so he didn't have to look at his miserable brother for a moment "What happened to you a few months back? Why do you think this would scare me anymore that the usual crap we are dealing with? You should tell me these things, Sammy!!" he couldn't help but raise his voice as he turned around glaring at his brother.

"..because I am scared!" Sam yelled back.

"Yeah, well…so you should! So was it you that killed that guy down the corridor?"

"I think so.."

"Don't you remember?" Dean demanded impatiently.

Sam shook his head looking at his brother, his face in pain.

"Only the girl…so she is ok.. I didn't…?" Sam whimpered, worried that he had hurt the girl in his rage.

"I think you didn't hurt her though she probably needs counselling for the rest of her life"

Sam only commented that with a tormented look.

"But why the guy, what did he do? Did he attack you? Was it a demon and what the hell happened to his _head_?"

"I don't know…I..just remember that I was very angry at him about _something_..and he smelled really bad.."

Dean frowned in disbelief "You _killed_ _him_ coz he _smelled bad_?" mocking him irritated.

"No, no, that's not what I meant!" panicking because Dean had misunderstood him.

"Again! The _head_? It didn't just pop off by itself, or did it? Explain this to me, _please!_"

"I wish I could" Sam said close to tears.

"At least _try_ Sammy. I am really struggling to understand any of this" Dean found a more reassuring tone hoping to put Sam more at ease to open up and share.

Sam looked up, his eyes all moist, his face scrunched up like a sad little puppy.

"I think I have killed him Dean!" Sam's voice was frail as he couldn't hold back the tears any longer.

"But _how_ Sammy? _How_?"

"I…" Sam was fighting with himself and the memory of what he had done. "I think I ..might…have…" the words were failing him now. He felt so guilty in front of Dean.

"Have what? Come one Sammy! Don't shut down now!"

Sam looked up and all he could do now was to gesture around his mouth.

Dean stirred his index finger around his own mouth in response to the gesture.

"What does _that_ mean? That you can't talk anymore?"

Sam wished he could just run away.

"I might have…_bitten_ it off…" Sam mumbled, getting ready for Dean's explosive rant.

Dean blinked, then he wanted to say something, but his lips only formed a silent "w" then he looked puzzlefused again and then his lips attempted to form an "o" but that didn't seem right either, so Dean gave up to say anything to that other than "Huh"

Suddenly it was Sam though who found his words again instead.

"I am monster Dean, and I have been trying to hide it from you since you found me, but last night…I couldn't hold back..I couldn't hold..the monster back, Dean!" Sam was overwhelmed by his sudden self-hate over his own weakness.

"Wait! Skip back to the part where you say that you are a monster." Dean said displaying the usual blank look of ignorance. This was a little too much for him to comprehend right now. Why couldn't things be easy just _once_!

Sam sat down on the edge of his bed with a deep sigh, allowing his head to droop again.

"What if I had also hurt the girl Dean?"

Damn, what do you say when your brother tells you he is a monster, Dean wondered.

He decided to ignore that disturbing revelation for a minute pushing himself forward and also sitting down on the edge of his own bed, facing Sam.

"But you _didn't_ Sam! It's still you in there Sammy, and I trust that you can control it! Whatever _it_ is! In fact, I am beginning to wonder if we cannot use this thing to our advantage."

Sam lifted his head looking utterly shocked and surprised.

"How can this be _good_? Are you not listening? I am a monster! The old man was right to keep me down in the basement! I am a danger. What if I hurt you?"

"Damn, I was afraid you would say that. Look, at the moment all we have is a mauled guy down the hall and you covered in blood. I am sure there is a logical explanation to it all" Somehow those words didn't sound so convincing when spoken out loud, Dean thought.

"Yeah Dean, that I killed the guy by tearing his head off coz I am a monster! That's your explanation right there!"

"Why are you still trying to convince me? We always knew that the day would come when you…I don't know what! But you are still my little brother and we are going to figure this out together, ok? Promise me you won't keep any more secrets though?

"I try."

"And promise you won't rip my head off while I'm asleep…or awake for that matter!" Dean said managing to make Sam smile a little again.

"Good, now let's go and grab some breakfast, I am starving!"

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_**Please don't be shy and let me know what you think. Review review review! - Many thanks for all the good reviews so far!! Loving you all!!**_


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